The Destiny of Alfendi Layton
by LastFebruary
Summary: When an old student of the Professor's unexpectedly passes, her last dying wish is for him to take care of her son, Alfendi. But the Professor's life is already complicated and adding a baby to the equation is sure to cause some problems. Yet, some problems are not big enough to rule out the blessings which little Alfendi brings to his new family. (Rated T for language).
1. Prologue: A Worthy Father

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Prologue: A Worthy Father**

Hershel Layton was never the fondest of children. Now, this might come as a surprise to you, considering he seemed to bond so well with Luke Triton, his young apprentice, and even Flora Reinhold, the girl he took under his wing as his adopted daughter. Yet, Professor Layton didn't deem himself a worthy… oh, how do I put it…? A worthy father.

Layton had once pictured having a family with his university sweetheart, Claire Foley. Maybe they'd live out in the country, on a farm with a few bright-eyed children. They could've grown to be successful and creative and they would bring their name to the sky in colors and- I'm sorry, I'm getting a little carried away. That vision, that beautiful family he had woven together and fantasized about had unraveled when _she_ passed.

Now Layton didn't think about children, or much less, a wife, much after that. People rarely questioned him about anything related to family life for that reason only. Taking in the young, preteen, Luke Triton came as surprise for everyone who knew him. And even more marvelous, the boy seemed to look up to Layton more than he did, his own father. Even Flora Reinhold, a girl who was at least eighteen years old, seemed to have an emotional attachment to him, after losing her father only months before she met Layton.

His charismatic looks and charm never failed when talking to children (I'm trying to say this in the least pedophilic way, honestly). Kids were just drawn to him… unfortunately; he was not necessarily drawn to them. Layton seemed to push children away; he was uncomfortable with having them around. Maybe it was because all of them reminded him of Claire, the love of his life that he would never see again. Maybe it was because he taught college aged students rather than grade school ones.

No one was for sure of why he seemed to reject the affection of children. Of course, he would never act ungentlemanly around them. Layton would always cast a smile in their direction, give them any hard candy he might have had in his pockets. Although he, himself, might not have enjoyed the constant magnetic energy he possessed to draw children towards him, he never rejected it. He would always share love and fondness towards them in order for them to feel special. He knew how to act around children, his only issue, I suppose, was taking care of one.

But… I guess he has to learn, doesn't he?

…

Hershel Layton was having yet another late night. The university had ordered some frivolous paperwork to be finished by at least eight o'clock the next morning and being the prestigious professor everyone admired, he was certain that he would get it done. He scrambled for note cards and pens and other assortments of office supplies lying in a heap in a desk drawer. This was not a pleasant time to be sitting in his office jotting things down.

The weather just outside his window was frightfully scary. The wind howled against the walls of the school and rain came down in sheets as if it was going to tuck everyone under the water. Layton had just called Flora about ten minutes earlier, alerting her that he would not be returning back to the flat that night (it was maybe the fifth to sixth night in a row). She had sounded upset because now Luke was gone and she would be all alone in the darkness. He had assured her that he would be back tomorrow (Sunday morning) and they could go to Mass and have a lovely brunch. The girl had agreed and then hung up the telephone.

He immediately got back to work, still scribbling notes and measuring artifacts and other assortments of ancient relics. Although the work was tedious, he couldn't deny that he loved every minute of it. He remembered briefly for moment, his old college professor, Dr. Andrew Schrader and nearly everything he taught him. Layton still looked up to the man and would visit him on a regular basis in order to maintain a healthy relationship.

While he was _still_ taking note after note, Layton thought of the very first class he taught. He could easily remember almost every student because each and every one of them had made such an impact on him. The first year at Gressenheller was filled with such… good people (the easiest way to describe, he assumed anyway). That was the same year Claire had passed away, when he was merely twenty-seven. Layton could remember vividly that he was rarely in the lecture hall at all. He had worked so tediously to discover the bastard who had caused his love's demise that he had actually been put into a hospital for some time.

Layton could remember, even in the sadness and depression, that his students had been extremely supportive. He would even picture them crowding around him for a class group hug when he returned from the hospital. He smiled and let out a soft chuckle at the memory. As the reminiscence settled in his brain, his mind drifted to the first student that had entered the lecture hall: Bethany Dane.

There were a few things he could clearly remember about Bethany. She was overwhelmingly beautiful, with her light purple waves and golden eyes. She was clever and determined. He knew after a week with being in class with her that she would move on to do many great things and with his help, if she wanted to, she could become one of the greatest archeologists the city of London had ever seen. She ended up pursuing chemical engineering instead (which was quite a disappointment to Layton) but he was happy for her nonetheless. The two tried their best to keep in touch after she graduated, but it became hard as their employment took charge.

Over the course of the last ten years, Layton had met with her several times. He knew from their previous encounter that she had one, very young son. The boy was only about two months old at the current moment and Layton had yet to meet him. He also knew that Bethany was not married, nor did she have any siblings and her parents were both, unfortunately, deceased. So her beloved Professor was nearly all she had in terms of family, besides her son.

Layton smiled thinking about her. She was one of his few students that had made a large impression on him and still made an effort to visit him after graduation. And almost as if it was telepathy or some other sort of mind reading procedure, the phone rang and Layton would be the most surprised as to who was on the other line.

"Professor…" A mumbling echoed from the other end of the telephone.

"Yes, hello," he swallowed, "Who, may I ask, is this?"

"Bethany Dane," she slurred her name together, "Professor, I'm in trouble, please, can you get to my flat immediately," she then let out a groan and the telephone made muffled sounds and shuffling.

"Bethany," Layton stood from his chair, "Bethany, are you still there?"

There was no response.

"I'll be right over, hold tight, all right," he waited for her to give some sort of reassuring sound.

"Okay."

…

Layton hit the gas as soon as the light flashed green. The rain pouring on his windshield made it difficult to see, and especially to drive. His mind was spinning. What had happened to her, what was going on? He couldn't make out anything helpful from the phone call, but Bethany seemed to be in a deep rut, he just had to find out what it was.

When he reached her address, he pulled over to the curb, ignoring the normal traffic laws and yanking the key out of the ignition. Even after all these years, the Laytonmobile was still in marvelous shape for a car. Bethany would probably remember him driving it around campus… _focus Layton_. He jumped out, slamming the door behind him and running around his car to her front door.

"Bethany!" He hollered, at first knocking gently and just hoping that whatever was going on was not a major problem, "Bethany!" He cried again, this time banging his fist on the door; rain was pouring down over him, soaking his clothes and flooding his shoes. Finally, Layton just stopped knocking, obviously something was wrong and he had to somehow get inside. The Professor reached for the door knob and twisted it, pushing the door into the small foyer area. He nearly fell into the wall across from the entrance, smashing his face into the plaster.

"Professor…?" Bethany was on the carpet in between two luxurious sofas and across from a blazing fire place. Her body seemed to be lying in an uncomfortable position and Layton could see from where he was standing that a puddle of blood was flooding the space around her body.

"Oh my goodness," He ran to her, kneeling his legs in the red liquid that was oozing on the floor, "Who did this to you?" Layton cried, carefully lifting her shoulders and propping her head up on his arm.

"I… I don't know…" she mumbled, "Someone… a man, yes a man, smashed that window…" she pointed towards the back of the flat where a large window pane stood above her dining room table, it no longer contained glass, "When he saw me, sitting…ahh," she held her hand over a wound on her stomach, "Sitting on that sofa, reaching… reaching for the telephone, he shot me." She sighed, as if talking required a large amount of energy.

"Did you call the police already?" Layton asked her, she seemed to be drifting off into space, "Bethany, did you call the police?"

"No," she said firmly, wincing as the pain grew stronger, "I called you."

"Oh my goodness," Layton looked around him for the telephone, "I will contact them right away, right now," he found the phone which had recoiled away from Bethany on a spiraling cord. He quickly picked it up and dialed the police.

"Professor… please," Bethany reached up for his chin, "Please, my son…" She had tears forming in her golden yellow eyes, "He's still in his crib… please make sure he is all right," she let a tear roll down her cheek, "I want to see him one last time."

"_Hello, Scotland Yard police force, what is your emergency?_"

"A man broke into a woman's house earlier this evening and shot her in the stomach, please send paramedics to 3675 Parkwood Avenue immediately," Layton said as smoothly as he possibly could.

"_Yes sir, right away_,"

"I'm going to find your son Bethany, please just hold on until then," he said to her as reassuringly as possible. He carefully placed her head back down onto the blood-soaked carpeting and jumped to his feet. He ran through the dining room and into a darkened hallway, in one of the rooms, he could hear the faint crying of a baby. He opened to door with a second hesitation and proceeded to the child's crib. He looked a lot like his mother, the same purple waves, and golden yellow eyes. The moment Layton looked over the crib at the child, the crying ceased and the infant watched him carefully put his hands under his small body. He ran out of the nursery with the child in his arms and progressed towards Bethany, whose body was almost completely limp.

"Oh," she began to cry at the sight of her child, "Alfendi," she looked up at the baby squirming in Layton's arms. He kneeled down next to her and handed her the infant, while still propping Bethany's body against his, "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry I have to leaving you so soon, I…" she gripped the baby in her bloodied arms, "Please, Professor," she weakly turned to him as the color drained from her face, "Please, do whatever you have… whatever you have to do to… to take care of him for me."

"I… I promise Bethany," he replied as strong as he could muster. She smiled faintly before her head fell back and her body went cold, "Bethany…" the Professor said quietly, "Bethany!" He cried, realizing that she was gone. Layton looked down at the crying baby in her dead arms and picked him up, cradling him, "I promise I will do whatever I have to do to take care of you."

…

"Professor!" Flora ran into the police station, her mascara was smudged from tears and her face was red with blotches. She scurried towards him, her feet slipping and sliding on the tile floors, she nervously flung herself into her caretaker's arms.

"Hello dear," Layton wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly, so tightly, she didn't think he would let her go, "I'm so happy to see you Flora, it's been quite a… quite a night." He sighed, swallowing the pain in his throat.

"Constable Barton filled me in Professor," she told him, still not budging, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry my dear," he told her, "Please."

"Layton!" Inspector Chelmey stood behind him, nervously scratching the back of his head, "I need to speak with you for a moment, please." The Professor broke away from Flora's embrace and she swallowed, sitting down in an uncomfortable chair next to the front desk.

"Yes, Inspector," Layton turned to the mustached man.

"Listen, I realize that this woman was one of your students and you were very close to her," he began, "And I believe every word when you said that she wanted you to take care of her son, Alfred…?"

"Alfendi," he corrected.

"Alfendi," the Inspector confirmed, "Layton, I know this will come as a shock to you, but we don't believe that you'd be the best fit for the kid."

"What are you implying Inspector?"

"Layton, you're never home," he blurted, "I just spoke with Dean Delmona nearly five minutes ago. He told me that you haven't slept at your flat in six days, how do you expect to take care of a child if you're never home to feed it and change its diapers and put it to bed at night?"

"I- I," the Professor muffled.

"Listen, you're the most trustworthy guy I know, I'm being honest," the Inspector began, scratching the back of his head, "But how do you really expect to take care of a child?"

Hershel was lost for words. The Inspector was right; he was unfit to take care of Alfendi. He was rarely home, he didn't cook, he couldn't clean, his job had become the most important fraction of his life that it had ruled out all others.

"I promised her Inspector," Layton said quietly, "I promised her that I would do anything to take care of that child and I'm not going to break that promise for some silly reason like that." He sighed, "Maybe I should just… maybe I should just quit."

"Now Layton," the Inspector warned, "You're not going to quit your respectable job for a child? A child you barely know, a child that actually you just met… today!" He waved his hands in the air, "Layton, making rash decisions like that is not a wise move, and I promise you're going to regret it." He was yelling now.

"He's going to regret what exactly?" Flora had stood up and someone found her way in between them.

"Flora, please," Layton massaged the wrinkles in his forehead.

"No, I'm eighteen, I have a right to know what is going on," she said stubbornly, "Now what is going on!?"

"The woman had a son," Layton turned towards her, "And she asked me to take care of him as her last dying wish, and I'm definitely considering it."

"A… child?" Flora asked.

"A two month old baby," he replied.

"Oh my goodness," she looked down at the floor, "And you're debating whether you should take care of him or…"

"Quit my job at the university." Flora looked down at the floor.

"Oh," she swallowed and scratched the back of the head. "Professor, I…"

"Flora, please," Layton turned around and pivoted his feet, "Let me just think about this for a moment, please," he put his hands in his face and breathed out.

"Professor," Flora reached out to put her hand on his shoulder.

"Layton, why don't you go home," the Inspector suggested, "It's been a long night… and um… and I think you should sleep on it."

"I… I think that sounds like a rather good idea." Layton nodded at the Inspector quietly holding back the sobs that were echoing from his throat.

_Hi guys, I just recently came up with this idea and Mystery Room is amazing, so why not. In this story I really want it to be really family oriented, I like Professor Layton fics that do that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the Prologue and the first chapter will be up soon! Please review and thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 1: Tough Decisions

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 1: Tough Decisions **

Layton woke up in his bed, sweat rolling from his eye brow. He was breathing heavily, so heavily that he could hardly hear the cars honking outside his bedroom window. The previous night had caused him to have somewhat of a mental breakdown and he still wasn't sure of what he was going to do exactly. He looked down, he still hadn't changed out of his clothes and his top hat was still sitting (quite crookedly) on top of his head.

He sat up, sifting his fingers through his chestnut colored hair and straightening his hat. It was pretty light outside, so it must have been at least ten o'clock in the morning if not later. Layton sighed, lying back down and pulling the sheets up to his chin. _No, get up_, he thought, _Flora probably thinks that I have died; I rarely ever sleep in late._ Now, Layton was one hundred percent correct when he thought of that. Flora was just outside his door, with a plate of now cold _and _inedible food, she was biting her fingernails and curling her toes, waiting for him to get up.

So he rose from his bed and stretched his weak and aching muscles. Today was the day. He had to choose what the police station was going to do with little Alfendi. The Professor couldn't deny that he had always wanted a son, one to teach about archeology and help with homework and take him with him on adventures. Luke had always seemed to fill that void, but now Luke was gone and Layton was alone.

"Flora," he croaked, still managing to crack some knuckles.

"Yes Professor!" He heard a shuffling outside his door and then the sound of something tipping over, "Oops!" He grinned, walking over to his bedroom entrance and twisting the knob open. Flora was wiping up some orange juice with a wad of napkins with a small plate of food sitting in front of her.

"Flora, dear," he held out his hand for her and she took it, standing on her feet, "You did not have to go to the trouble of making me food, especially today."

"Professor, that's one of the reasons I did," she pouted, "Obviously today is going to be strenuous on you, so I figured I might as well make you something!" She crossed her arms.

"Flora," he was about to tell her that it's not necessary, but instead he said something else, "May I ask you something?"

"Of…" she looked at him, "Of course Professor."

"What do you think I should do?" Professor Hershel Layton was asking his protégée for help? This was unheard of, absurd! But it pleased Flora to no end.

"Professor," she sighed, tugging at her ponytail, "I don't know." She looked down at the floor, at her breakfast, "What feels the most right to you? What… what do you think would make for the best outcome?"

"Flora, I-"

"You know something," she grinned, "I have one solution that would allow you to keep your job and take care of Alfred-"

"Alfendi."

"Okay, okay," she laughed, "Just… just let me take care of him!" For a moment everything was silent, Layton was thinking about her suggestion with deep consideration, but there were a few unfortunate problems…

"Flora, what if you start a fire?"

"I've only done that three times Professor!" She clapped her hands together gleefully.

"What if you lock yourself out again?"

"That was only once and you were on your way home anyway," she persisted.

"What if we get robbed?"

"Professor, now you're just making up exc-"

"Flora, what if the same thing that happened to Bethany happens to you?" He was now gripping her shoulders so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"Professor…" she whispered, "You can't protect me from everything," she looked into his eyes, "I'm not that little mysterious girl from St. Mystere anymore… I'm just… not."

"And I know that, but-" His voice cracked slightly, "But I just can't lose anyone else, I've lost so many people in my life Flora and there is no way in hell, I'm going to lose you."

There was a moment where nothing but silence ran between them and they were locked in their current positions, looking into each other's eyes. For the first time, Flora looked at him as if he were her father; strong, careful, protective, sometimes, stupidly protective. But… she didn't want that stupidly protective father to let her go. She wanted him to tell her that she meant something to him, because it had been so long since she had heard it in the first place.

"Professor," she swallowed, "I promise, you will never lose me." Flora wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. He returned the embrace, holding Flora as if she was his own daughter. Then, the telephone began to ring (sorry if this ruins the moment, but it happened). Flora broke away from her crumbling caretaker and ran over to the machine, picking it up delicately with her fingertips.

"Hello? Yes, this is Flora," she paused for a minute, tapping her foot on the ground, "Yes; he is awake, sure, of course Inspector." She pulled the telephone away from her face and mouthed: _It's Inspector Chelmey_. Layton nodded and walked over to the phone, holding it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Oi Layton," the Inspector said to the Professor, "First I would love to tell you the news that we caught the bastard." Layton swallowed.

"Goodness gracious, how?"

"He ran in 'ere and confessed everything to us, I'll tell you this one is a real whack-job."

"Oh my goodness, that it wonderful to hear, thank you," Layton let out a sigh of relief.

"Now," her heard the Inspector breath in on the other line, "Have you made a decision yet?"

"I think I have." Layton replied breathing in as well, "I think I have."

…

"Hello Layton," the Inspector welcomed the Professor and his protégée at the front entrance of the police station about an hour after he had called, "We've got the baby right over 'ere, good little fellow. He-" Layton immediately tuned him out, he was deathly afraid of a baby, a baby? He was having a baby… symbolically, I suppose. He barely knew how to take care of a infant, much less have one living in his home… for the rest of his life.

"Hello Alfendi," the Professor stood over the purple haired, golden eyed boy, blinking mindlessly into space, "I'm… I'm going to take care of you now." He reached out, as if he was going to take the child into his arms, but he couldn't seem to do it.

"Professor," Flora nudged him, "You can do it." She gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded at her while putting his fingers under the child's arms and hoisting him up from the police officer who was carrying him. He carefully let the child lay down in a cradling position.

"Oh my goodness," he said, his eyes getting wide, "I have a son…"

"I have a brother," Flora smiled spinning on the soles of her feet, "I have a little brother named Alfendi!" The little baby looked up at Flora, giggling at her gestures, "May I hold him Professor?"

"Of course dear," to be truthful, Layton was happy to have the baby out of his arms, he was dreadfully afraid that he would drop the child. He handed to infant to Flora who took him into her arms and seemed to have a magic power to make him laugh.

"Layton," Inspector Chelmey tapped him on the shoulder, "May I speak with you a moment? There is someone who has been asking about you." He looked back at his cheerful daughter playing with little Alfendi and suddenly felt relieved because she knew what she was doing.

"Who has been asking to speak with me?" Layton asked, "Is it the man who killed Bethany, does he want to see me?'

"No," the Inspector answered simply, "He's looked away for second-degree murder and that bastard won't be getting out of prison any time soon."

"Good," Layton didn't feel any happiness that the man was in jail, he felt relief and justice, knowing that Bethany was being justified, "Then who does want to talk to me?"

"I can't believe you haven't guessed," Chelmey laughed, gesturing the Professor to follow him into the prison cells, "We moved him here from the main reform center early this morning, he was asking about you all yesterday after some guard mentioned what happened."

"Oh," for whatever reason, Layton couldn't think of anybody, he was extremely distracted, yes maybe that's what it was, that was why his mind wasn't working properly.

"Oh 'ere he is," Chelmey pulled a metal ring with multiple keys hanging on it, he sifted through them for a moment before choosing one and inserting it into the lock on the prison cell door.

"Professor," Clive Dove stood up in a turquoise and white striped jumpsuit, "I…" he swallowed, "I'm sorry."

"Oh Clive," the Professor walked into the cell, sitting down at a small table in the middle of the room.

"Professor, are you all right? I heard people talking about what had happened to you yesterday and I became frightened, I… I'm sorry about it."

"Clive, please," Layton gestured for the adolescent to sit down on the chair, "Clive, because I trust you, even with all of the things you have done, I still very much trust you." He paused, Chelmey stood against the door frame listening intently, "When you get out of prison, whenever you do, come to my flat and promise me, with your life that you will take care of Flora and my son… Alfendi."

"You're adopting this child?" Clive asked, quite a bit surprised.

"Yes," Layton replied, "Now do you promise to take care of them?"

"Yes, of course," Clive held out his hand, "I will never break that promise Professor, the debt I owe to you will never be paid and I know that, so the least I can do is take care of them for you."

"Thank you my boy," Layton tried to smile, but the pain that he was feeling in his chest was too great. The last twenty-four hours had been so overwhelming; he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. He shook the criminal's hand.

"It's a pleasure…" the boy seemed to want to ask the Professor something, desperately, but he could get the courage to do it.

"What's wrong Clive?" Good thing that the Professor could see it.

"I…" he swallowed and sighed, "I still haven't had a chance to apologize to Flora for everything I have done… It's been nearly six months since the events that put me in this," he laughed, poking at the turquoise and white uniform he was wearing, "And I still haven't… I just want to have things right."

"That seems appropriate enough," Layton smiled, "I'll go fetch her for you if that's all right," Clive nodded as the Professor stood up and walked out of the room, passing Chelmey with a nod. He made his way down the hallway; he could see his beautiful daughter bouncing the baby Alfendi in her lap.

"Professor," she smiled at him, "I think…" she looked down for a moment, "I think that everything will be okay."

"As do I," the Professor sat down next to her, the infant rubbed his eyes, yawning, "I think someone is a little tired."

"Yeah," Flora smiled at Alfendi curling into her arms, "Can I ask you something, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Go right ahead my dear."

"Would you have had children with… with Claire?"

"Um," Layton breathed in and out in long drawn out breaths, "Yes." He answered simply, "We probably would." Flora nodded, smiling a little bit as the infant started to drift into sleep.

"Professor," she said, "Who wanted to see you?" She was whispering now.

"Um… well," he looked at her, "Let me say it this way," she cocked her head slightly, "Now he is asking for you."

"What?" She almost laughed a little, "Um, here," she carefully lifted Alfendi and placed him in the Professor's arms, "I'll be back in a moment."

"Inspector Chelmey will direct you," he added as she began to walk away towards the prison cells. The clicking of her heels drowned out the nervous feeling she was getting. She knew exactly who wanted to speak with her and she had been rehearsing for this exact moment for the past six months.

"Flora," Inspector Chelmey saw her walking down the hall and smiled, "Go right ahead." She stood for a second debating whether she should go in or not.

"Flora?" She heard Clive's voice in the room, so she breathed out and stepped in, "Flora I'm-" before he had a chance to speak, she lifted her hand and whipped it across his face.

"I accept your damned apology," she said strongly as her hand started to pulse. Clive stood up straight holding his cheek.

"I deserved that," he said. Clive looked up at her, "I… Flora…"

"I don't want to hear it," she said, "Good-bye."

"Flora,"

"Good-bye Clive," she said, walking out of the room, "Damn." She muttered. Her hand was pulsing and red from where she had hit Clive. She bent her fingers and clenched her hand into a fist, everything hurt.

"Miss Reinhold," Inspector Chelmey, "I hope you realize that what your just did was illegal-"

"What?" She broke into a nervous sweat.

"But," he began as he locked the prison cell, "I will let you off with a slide, because I know what he did to you."

"Thank you!" She cried, reaching out to hug him.

"Now, now," the Inspector laughed, slightly pushing Flora away, "Let's get back to Layton and little Alfendi." Flora ran down the hall to see the Professor cradling the baby in his arms, it was one of the sweetest things she had ever seen in her life.

"Professor," she said to him, sitting down.

"How did your visit go?"

"Um…" she sighed, "It went good, I guess." She felt a twinge of guilt hit her right in the chest.

"That's good," Layton nodded, "Would you like to get going?"

"Yes, I suppose," she tried to force a smile but she couldn't seem to do it. She knew that she had just crushed the heart of the criminal who had kidnapped her and she felt terrible about it. But there wasn't much she could do know, she'd have to live with it for a while.

_Hi guys! I'm so appreciative of the 4 reviews I got on the first chapter! Thank you KeybladeTopHatMaster, The Mocking Abitat Eco, and Glaciealis! I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I realize that Flora was a little OOC, but I mean, if someone kidnapped you and thought that just "sorry" was going to cut it, I would go a little crazy on them too. _

_And I'm sorry for not updating sooner, FanFiction was glitching and it wouldn't allow me to enter the "Manage Stories" tab and I must admit I was getting very frustrated._

_Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!_


	3. Chapter 2: Legally

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 2: Legally**

Hershel Layton was a father. Maybe not biologically, but legally, yes, he was a father. He couldn't believe it. The idea seemed to foreign to him. He had been a father _figure _for Luke and for Flora, but a father figure was much different than a father, right?

"Professor!" Layton hit the brake, "You almost ran a red light!" Flora cried covering her chest, her heart beating a mile a minute.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled as the infant started to wail in the back seat.

"Oh no," Flora said swallowing and un-strapping her seat belt.

"Flora, what do you think you're doing?" Layton asked as the girl climbed over the front chairs and plopped down next to Alfendi's car seat. The entire police department had donated all sorts of baby supplies to help Layton get onto a good start. There was the car seat, an old crib, diapers, baby wipes, blankets, bottles, a changing table, hand-me-down clothes and bibs, a baby seat and tray, little food containers, sippy cups, and some coupons for baby food for the local grocer. Clearly neither Layton, nor Flora knew exactly what they were getting into.

"I'm coaxing the baby," Flora replied, sticking her head in the car seat. The child's wails stopped almost immediately and he was intrigued by Flora's swirly hair (what baby isn't fascinated with hair?).

"Are you strapped in," Layton heard a small click ring from the back seat.

"Now I am," she insisted, letting little Alfendi hold her finger with his tiny hand. Layton nodded, waiting for the light to turn green. His flat was just around the corner, they would be there in no time.

Professor Layton pulled the Laytonmobile up in front of his residence. He was the first to exit the car because Flora was trying to unbuckle all of the little clasps that contained Alfendi in his car seat, she wasn't being the most successful.

"Everything all right dear?" Layton asked her as he opened the trunk.

"Yes," she confirmed, taking the baby out of his seat and cradling him in her arms, "Hey buddy," she laughed as the child smiled at her reaching out to grab her ponytail, "What are you doing?" She giggled, "What do you think you're doing Alfendi?" He let out a baby noise (at least that's what Flora referred to them as; baby noises).

"Flora?"

"Yes," she answered, bouncing Alfendi on her lap.

"How should we bring everything in, I mean," Layton stood over the trunk of his car. There were boxes and bags full of baby supplies, spilling over the edge of the case. Looking at everything all jumbled together like that made Layton feel a little queasy.

"Well," Flora found her way outside of the car and let Alfendi gently rest on her shoulder with her hands supporting his back and his little bottom, "Why don't we take him in first and lay him down somewhere…" she paused for a minute, "But the crib is in here…" Alfendi made some more 'baby noises' before the Professor had an idea.

"Why don't we just lay him on the sofa, for the time being?"

"He could roll off," Flora responded.

"What about the floor?"

"I guess the floor could work, but we'd have to secure the area around him with pillows so he can't roll away." Layton nodded, he wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about or why everything was necessary, but he didn't question it. Flora knew more about babies than he did.

"All right, well," he looked longingly up at the flat, "Let's get inside."

Well, after Flora and the Professor built a little fort around Alfendi on the floor of their living room, they took turns going outside to fetch more baby supplies and actually watching the baby. Flora typically stayed inside to keep an eye on Alfendi, only because she (well and the Professor) knew that he wouldn't know what to do in any infant related situation. And of course, Flora could barely lift any of the items in the trunk of the Laytonmobile.

After Layton had unloaded all of the baby supplies from the car into the house, he had to find a place to put of it. Since Luke had moved out almost six months earlier, his room was now empty… no, I shouldn't say empty because all of his physical stuff was still in there. It was unoccupied (that's better) and it was the perfect room for little Alfendi, probably because it was the only space besides the guest room upstairs.

First Layton moved all of Luke's things (his bed, a dresser, an old desk with papers still sprawled on top of it and a hat/coat rack) into the farthest corner of the room. He would take them out of the room later. Then he pushed the box filled with the crib parts into the room. He took a deep breath, sitting on his heels and reading the instructions pamphlet that had been crumbled and smashed at the bottom of the box.

"Professor," Flora called, still watching Alfendi kick and look around, "Should I put all of the cups and utensils away?"

"That would be lovely Flora!" He called back, "Could you feed him as well?" Layton suddenly took that back, covering his hand over his mouth. Flora couldn't cook, he knew that better than anyone. She had once, somehow, baked a cake mix from one of those boxes you find at the grocery store and it had nearly exploded. In some form or another, Flora always seems to screw up the recipe and baby formula was not one of those recipes that could be messed up.

"No problem Professor!" She chirped.

"Oh God, I've basically killed the boy," he whispered to himself, desperately trying to think of a way to redirect her attention, "Flora dear!"

"Yes," he ran out of the room to see her holding Alfendi in her arms, bouncing him lightly.

"Flora, why don't you go to the thrift shop, just down the street and get some toys for Alfendi."

"Really, you'd let me!" She smiled at him.

"Yes," he returned the grin and pulled some money from one of his pant pockets, "Go buy a couple toys for him, I'll handle his lunch, if that's all right with you."

"Of course Professor," she walked over to him and carefully transferred the baby from her arms to his, and took the money from his hand, "I'll be back probably in thirty minutes or so." Flora told him, taking her pink coat off of the coat rack and wrapping it around herself.

"Sounds all right with me Flora," the Professor replied.

"Okay, see you two in a bit," she laughed, making a silly face for Alfendi who giggled and continued to make more baby noises.

As soon as Flora closed the door behind her, little Alfendi became squirmy. Layton immediately put the child back on the floor and ran to the bags of baby supplies, searching for the jar of formula powder that someone had given him (it was probably Barton or maybe Grosky, no, Grosky brought in the baby seat and tray, anyway he at least thought so). When Layton finally found the jar, he nervously scanned the wrapper for instructions. He sighed with relief when he realized how easy making baby formula was.

He placed the jar next to him and then looked through the bags again for a bottle. Layton remembered someone had placed about three glass baby bottles into the bag, along with some soft, old blankets. When he finally found them, he slung one of the blankets over his shoulder and took the bottles and the jar of formula into the kitchen where he hastily warmed up some water in a tea kettle. Suddenly (scaring the Professor right out of his shoes) Alfendi started to wail with hunger, this caused the Professor to accidently spill some formula powder onto the tiles.

"I'm coming Alfendi!" He yelled before he realized that the child could not understand him. The Professor quickly dispensed some powder into the bottle, and then poured the hot water on top of it, screwing the nipple on top. "All right," the Professor ran into the living room, shaking the bottle vigorously before placing it onto the coffee table, "I'm right here." He reached down and carefully lifted the baby onto his lap. The crying didn't completely go away, but it became much quieter as Layton gripped the bottle and held it over Alfendi.

The baby almost immediately used his hands to hold it over his mouth and drank from it. For about fifteen minutes, it was completely silent, Layton just watched his son quietly drink from the bottle. He still couldn't believe that the child was his, he was a father. Nearly twenty hours earlier, he was working at the university (his only priority) and now he had a baby. It was marvelous and frightening at the same time.

He smiled to himself. He would have to teach Flora how to correctly cook to ensure that Alfendi wouldn't die from food poisoning. He also had to make sure that the flat was secure and safe for them. Even though Flora wasn't technically his daughter, he had to protect her from everything that would possibly be a threat. The Professor sighed, thinking about Clive. The boy would probably never get out of prison unless he somehow got involved and he knew that if Clive was around, Flora and Alfendi would both be safe from harm.

"Hello Alfendi," the Professor said, still gripping the baby bottle, "I hope that you're happy here. I know that we're nothing compared to your mother," he shut his eyes picturing the last time he saw Bethany, "But Flora and I, we'll try to make you as happy as you possibly can be, okay? I promise that." Layton sighed, "Eventually you'll grow up to be a responsible young man and, oh why am I thinking of this now?" He laughed, "I just want you to know, little Alfendi, that even though I'm not your first, real father, I will try my hardest to be the best second, fake father ever." The infant made some more baby noises before pushing the almost empty bottle out of his mouth.

"All done?" The Professor laughed, putting the bottle back onto the coffee table and hoisting the child to sit up straight. Then he laid him on his shoulder and patted the baby's back. He had seen Rosa, his old maid do this with one of her grandchildren after feeding. Apparently you're supposed to pat until the child burps (it's not very gentlemanly, but he supposed that Rosa was always right, so why not give it a try?). After a few minutes, Alfendi let out a great burp from his stomach and then started to make baby noises again.

"That was a big one little fellow," the Professor laughed lifting the baby off of his shoulder and sitting him down on his lap. Alfendi then yawned and rubbed his eyes closed. Layton held him tightly as he started to drift into sleep. The man sat there for a moment looking at the child sleeping away. Even though the child's life was still in its earliest stages, the Professor hoped to prepare Alfendi for life's toughest challenges, he wanted to make him successful in every way he possibly could and a parent always wants that for his child, doesn't he?

"Professor?" Flora opened the front door to the flat, her pink trench coat dripping with water, "It started to pour on my way home," she explained, setting down the bag of toys (a little toy car and a toy train, with tracks included) for Alfendi and peeling the sopping wet piece of clothing off of her body.

"Oh dear," he whispered, still clutching the baby in his arms, "Here, let me…" he felt that, for the moment, he was stuck, if he moved the baby would wake up and probably begin to cry.

"Professor, I'm completely all right," she grinned as she walked into the living room, "You don't have to disturb Al for me."

"Al?"

"Al, as in Alfendi," she said, "I figured we might as well give the kiddo a nickname," Flora looked down at the baby and smiled, "Well, I'm going to take a shower, I'm freezing." With that, Flora left the room, leaving Alfendi- Al- alone with the Professor once again.

During the period of time when Flora was in the shower, Al slept soundly. He would stir if the Professor made a sudden movement, but other than that, he was extremely peaceful lying in his father's arms. And to be truthful, his father enjoyed it. Even though he was known for not getting along with kids too well, he seemed to manage perfectly with Al. And for once he actually liked it.

"Professor?" Flora whispered as she exited the bathroom. She had changed from her salmon colored dress with red ribbons and long sleeves, into a hunter green sundress and her glasses. The girl admitted that she liked contacts, but they irritated her eyes if she wore them too much so her glasses worked just fine. Her hair was still wet and she was brushing it out with a hair brush.

"Yes dear?" He replied, whispering as well.

"I can hold onto Al if you want to build the crib," she stepped out of the bathroom, placing the hair brush back onto the counter.

"All… all right," Layton couldn't deny that he liked holding Alfendi and he could also admit that he didn't want to put him down. But he knew that the crib had to be built and he wasn't going to let a lady handle that. Flora smiled and walked over to him, holding her hands out in front of her. The baby squirmed slightly as he was put into his sister's arms but he seemed to nestle back into sleep as soon as she sat down.

"I'll go build that crib and then he can take a real nap," Layton whispered giving Flora a smile. She laughed a little before regaining focus on the little life in her arms. That little life was now her brother.

_Wow! I'm really surprised that I'm getting such positive reviews with this fan fiction! Thank you for that, I really appreciate it, like I REALLY DO! Anyway, how did you like this chapter? There were a few little father/son moments I snuck in there. And I also apologize that so far, it has not been completely revolved about Alfendi, BUT he is only a baby and he will remain a baby for a few more chapters. One of the reasons I like writing this story so much is forming family and friendship bonds, so I will do that, as well as go over Al's life. Eventually, it will become more about him! I just want to let you know, if you've been wondering _


	4. Chapter 3: Life at the Layton Household

**Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 3: Life in the Layton Household**

It had been nearly two months since the arrival of Alfendi in the Layton household. His room (which had previously belonged to the Professor's apprentice) was cleared of anything that was not particularly useful and replaced with Alfendi's possessions. The walls of his room were painted a light blue color and the ceiling was embellished with puzzle pieces (Flora's idea). The crib had been built quite sturdily considering it was so old and had been placed in one corner of the room. The other end contained the changing table and the bureau, which had been Luke's at one point.

Now, because Flora was such a terrible cook, Layton called and made a deal with his previous housekeeper, Rosa Grimes. It had been many years since he had last seen her, it was actually just before her retirement. The woman's hair was now graying and her skin started to sag off of her face (sorry for the explicit description; aging is not necessarily beautiful). When he called her, she almost dropped the telephone she was so excited to see him. He made a agreement with her that she would come over three times a week to clean and, most especially, cook for Flora and Al. He promised to pay her double if she made multiple meals to help them survive until the next day and she, of course, refused the paycheck.

So as soon as Rosa started arriving at the Layton household, the Professor got back to work. He discovered, unfortunately, that every student of his and even others knew what had happened, or at least had somewhat of an idea.

"Professor, you didn't tell us you had a wifey!?" Rosetta Stone, quite possibly the most… enthusiastic and brash student he had ever had stood in front of the pack of learners crowding around him.  
"Erm…" he swallowed, "I don't have a wife," he replied, taking a step away from the horde surrounding him like wild dogs.

"What!?" She cried, her facial expression seemed to grow with anticipation, her smile blinding, "What a scandal, Mr. L," she winked at him, causing him to sink into his chair, mortified.

"Not in the slightest," he said, once again swallowing from the nervousness and hysteria.

"Then what do you mean…?" She asked, leaning over his desk, her torso parallel to the desktop.

"Um…" he stood up, "Please everyone sit down," he cleared his throat and raised both of his hands, gesturing for all the students to take a seat, "Now I know there has been a lot of confusion over whether or not I have a son." He breathed in, Rosetta was still leaning on his desk, "And I do."

"Professor!" Rosetta squealed.

"Rosetta, my dear, please go sit down," she blushed incredibly and then proceeded to take a seat, nudging one of her fellow classmates.

"_He called me dear_,"

"Anyway," he paused straightening his hat, "I do not have a wife. The mother of this child was a former student of mine from about eleven years ago. She passed away a couple months past and asked me to promise to take care of her son." He breathed out, "That is all."

"Can you bring him in, Professor?!" Someone in the back of the lecture hall called out.

"Yes! Please!"

"I'm not sure if that will work out so well," he mumbled, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"Please!"

"Maybe one day," he sighed, sitting down at his desk.

…

When the Professor arrived home, the first and foremost objective he had to accomplish was slumping over on the sofa and closing his eyes.

"Profess-" Flora drifted out of the kitchen with Alfendi bouncing in her arms, "Oops…" she said turning around and heading back into the kitchen.

"Is he home darling?" Rosa asked, stirring a large pot of stew with a wooden spoon.

"Just arrived," she responded as Alfendi pulled out a few strands of hair, "Al," she laughed, grabbing his fingers and peeling the brown strands from his chubby hands.

"Oh boy, the poor lad is going to work himself to death!" She insisted, turning the stove off and lifting the pot from the burner.

"I know, I feel so bad for him," Flora peered back out into the living room, the Professor was sound asleep, "You know, I think he misses Luke."

"You think so?" Rosa asked, setting the pot on the kitchen table and snatching a ladle from the utensil drawer.

"Yes," she replied, sitting down in one of the chairs, pushing the bowl of stew away from her to avoid Al getting into it, "He hasn't seen him in almost nine months, and he's been acting so differently."

"Yes, I quite enjoyed the days when the lad was around," Rosa smiled at the memory, "He never kept his trap shut, but I guess it wasn't all that bad really. He kept you comp'ny."

"Do you think he'll even come back?" Flora asked suddenly, remembering her friend, the boy in the blue.

"Oh, most definitely," she replied, "That boy was a London lad, no doubt about it. He'll come running back 'ere as soon as his head is screwed on all the way, I assure you that." Flora smiled at her statement.

"It's just…" she sighed, "Things will be so different when he returns," Flora looked down at Alfendi, smacking his small hands on the table in front of him, making loud baby noises, "I don't think he ever expected the Professor to have a son."

"Well, I'm being honest with you when I didn't expect that much either." Rosa replied chuckling whole-heartedly.

"Yeah," Flora smiled, but it faded away momentarily. When would Luke return, if he was ever going to? Would he accept Alfendi? Or knowing Luke, would he think of the baby as more of a replacement then family?

"Oh, lighten up deary;" Rosa patted the girl on the shoulder, "Things always get better."

"Boy do I hope so."

That evening, after Rosa Grimes had finished her roundup and little Alfendi had been put to bed, Flora and the Professor sat on the sofa in the living room to chat. The two liked to do this every once in a while to catch up, considering both their lives were so very busy.

"So how's the university?" Flora asked, taking a sip of hot tea the Professor had just brewed.

"Quite all right actually," he replied, sipping some tea as well, "You know, Dean Delmona misses talking to you in my office almost every day." Flora laughed.

"Yeah, I miss talking to him too," she smiled, "He'd always give me a puzzle to test out for his granddaughter," she laughed thinking of the short man in an orange suit.

"Yes," the Professor said, "Oh Flora, this year has been quite strenuous."

"I know Professor," she replied, "It'll get better though; think about it you have me and Alfendi now." She tried to cheer him up, setting her hand on his shoulder. "And just think it's almost half over," she reminded him as the holidays approached rapidly.

"Ha-ha, my dear, I'm not sure Christmas makes things less exhausting." He tried to laugh, but he was all but pretending.

"I know, I know," she sighed, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course not Flora," he replied, taking yet another sip of his tea.

"Professor…" she paused, "Do you miss Luke, like, at all?"

"Of course I do," he responded almost immediately, "I miss him and Clark and Brenda, I miss them all dreadfully."

"As do I," she said quietly, "Do you think it would be possible for them to come here for the holidays? You know, just for a week or so?"

"Flora," he began, "I know you don't know Clark too well, but he's… he's a rather difficult man to convince of something." Layton sighed, setting his tea cup on the coffee table, "When he sets his mind to something, such as moving away, well…" he scratched the back of his head, "To put it simply, he's… he's not going to be back for a while."

"But what about Luke?"

"Now Flora-"

"Luke surely wants to come back, right? He even sent you a letter that he wants to see you, remember, he asked you to help him solve a mystery in his new town." She cried, "Have you even replied yet?"

"Flora-"

"Luke does want to see you, he made that clear, can't we just invite him here? Just for a little bit, we both know that he'd rather spend time with you than his own father-"

"Now Flora, you know that statement was not acceptable," the Professor scolded, "One of the reasons Clark wanted to move away was because he wanted to spend more time with his son. The job was sort of the conformation of the plan." He explained, "Luke has never had a good relationship with his father and it means the world to… to both of them now that they're getting closer."

"But-"

"No more on this subject," the Professor stood up and grabbed his cup of tea to take into the kitchen, "No more."

Flora didn't respond. She sat on the sofa twirling her ponytail and shutting her eyes to avoid crying. She was angry, she could openly admit that, but she did see where the Professor was coming from. The only problem was that she missed Luke terribly; he was usually the one to help her solve puzzles that she couldn't figure out and on every adventure he went on, he seemed to somehow get a hold of a cook book for her to read (just so she didn't feel left out). Even though he would torment her sometimes, she missed just his presence: the cocky, annoying preteen know-it-all presence. Although sometimes it made her a little angry, she missed it.

"Flora," the Professor said as he walked out of the kitchen, "I'm sorry I snapped at you, that wasn't gentlemanly, I realize that now." He walked around the couch and sat down next to her, she immediately wrapped her arms around his waist and cried into his shirt, "I miss Luke just as much as you do, honestly, I do. But… but Clark had talked to me about this long before it was actually put into action and there was nothing I could do but agree with him." He sighed, "As much as I'd like to believe I was a father to Luke, I wasn't and I'm never going to be."

"B-b-but," Flora sobbed.

"Shh…" he rubbed her shoulders as she started to calm down, "Come now Flora, let's head to bed." She sniffled, reaching for her handkerchief in her pocket and wiped her nose with it.

"O-o-okay," she said, standing up and walking towards her room, shutting the door behind her. The Professor sighed, lying back on the sofa. He thought for a minute, if he wasn't the father to Luke, how does that make any difference to Alfendi? The child has to have a father of his own, somewhere, he must being doing something. But then there must be a reason that Bethany kept him out of Al's life. If he was still involved, she wouldn't have asked Layton to take care of the infant, she would have wanted the true father of the child to do so.

"Good gracious," he mumbled, standing up and walking back towards his room, "What in the world am I supposed to do?"

…

As the holidays approached the Layton household, things became quite hectic. Little Alfendi was now, almost five months old. According the parenting books Flora had purchased he was at the stage where he should start talking (more _advanced _baby noises), sitting upright for short period of time, and even crawling. She started noticing that Alfendi could roll over onto his tummy and his tiny grasp got much stronger. Unfortunately for Flora, it meant twice as many strands of hair were going to be yanked out of her head.

The first few weeks of December started out quite smoothly. Every day, after the Professor drove off to the university, Flora and Rosa (if it was one of her days) would place Al in a pram and ride him around London, into little shops and stores, hoping to find the best gifts for everyone on their lists. Eventually, they'd have to take Al home because he would get fussy, but the shopping periods usually lasted around three to four hours until then.

Flora greatly enjoyed the shopping time. She had a chance to be closer to Rosa, who she considered one of those really "chill" aunts who would just let you do whatever you pleased. Most of the time, the old woman would accidentally tell an embarrassing story from when she cleaned the Professor's office (they were all _about_ the Professor) and then would make Flora promise not to tell anyone what she said, especially Layton.

As the holidays approached, the Professor finally received some time off. Dean Delmona explained to him on the last day of class, before break, that he would not obtain a single slip of paper work to complete. This was quite rewarding and exciting, seeing now he could spend some time with his family.

"Hi Professor," Flora chirped as he entered the flat. She was sitting on the sofa, watching Al lay on his stomach and try to roll over onto his back.

"Good afternoon dear," Layton smiled, hanging his coat up on the coat hanger, "Where is Rosa?"

"It's her day off, remember?" Flora replied, still watching the baby.

"Oh yes," he nodded, slipping his shoes off his feet and sitting down next to Flora, "Is she taking break off? I forgot to ask her."

"I believe so," she responded, "But I think that she might come over here a few times over the holiday to say hello."

"Yes," Layton returned the smile and then looked down at Alfendi, "Hello my boy," he reached and picked him up. The child smiled and screeched loud baby noises. Both Flora and the Professor laughed.

"He's started to scoot a little bit," she said to him, "I'm afraid he'll be crawling in almost no time at all, unfortunately," she smiled, tickling the baby's tummy.

"Oh no," he laughed, "We can't have that, can we?" The baby replied with yet another giggle.

"Professor, what do you think we should do for Christmas?" Flora asked, standing up and picking up Alfendi's toy car, "It's just us three, do you think we should invite some people over? Maybe…?"

"Yes, I do think we should have a little party," he thought for a moment, "Do you remember Paul?"

"Oh, how could I forget!" She laughed, placing the car in a small wooden crate in the corner of the room.

"We could invite him, he might not attend, but the invitation is still open to him," the two laughed.

"What about Inspector Chelmey and Constable Barton, I'm sure they'd come along," she suggested.

"Yes," the Professor nodded, "I have a few former students that I'd like to invite," he said placing his hand on his chin.

"Like that famous opera singer?" Flora asked enthusiastically, "I've always wanted to meet her myself!"

"Yes, that can be arranged." The two spent the next hour configuring a guest list of people, they included many from adventures the Professor had once been on.

"I think that this is going to be a really nice party," Flora grinned, "And all of them will get to meet you," Flora poked Alfendi in the stomach, causing him to giggle some more, "I'm going to cook a little," she said to the Professor, "I haven't done so in a while, I'm going to use one of Rosa's recipes."

"And you're going to follow it?" The Professor asked almost instantly.

"Of course!" She sounded offended, "It'll taste magnificent!"

"I'm sure it will," he scratched the back of his head, wishing he hadn't said that to her, "Ah well." He whispered. Suddenly he looked down at the guest list and grabbed a pen. He scribbled one more name at the bottom. Unfortunately, it wasn't up to him if he could attend this holiday party or not.

_Hello! I'm curious to know if you have any ideas about who that mystery guest is… who do you think it is? Anyway! I hope you liked this chapter and another is soon to be on it's way! Thanks for reading and please review! –Lilliana _


	5. Chapter 4: A Holiday Party

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 4: A Holiday Party**

The holiday party was scheduled to take place on the Saturday before Christmas. This way, the guests could spend some of their vacation with their friends and then the actual day with their family. Flora and Layton had prepared for this gathering by going out and cutting down a Christmas tree and decorating it with ornaments and lights, as well as obtaining lots of food. Visitors started to arrive around five thirty in the afternoon, just before the sun went down. The very first person to knock on the Layton's front doorstep was none other than Rosa Grimes.

"Good afternoon Mr. Layton," she smiled as she entered the flat, "It's very kind of you to invite me to your party." She seemed to scan the room a bit.

"Yes, it's quite a ple-" She placed one finger on his mouth.

"Is Flora cooking tonight's meal?" She whispered, eying him.

"Erm…" he swallowed, "She is, she asked me if she could and I couldn't refuse."

"Oh dear," Rosa put both hands on her hips, "I must help the lass."

"Rosa, but you're a guest!"

"Guest, shmest, I don't give a bloody rat's ass," she insisted, "Oh Flora!" The old woman burst through the wavering door into the kitchen and there was nothing else he could do.

"Good gracious," he sighed, knowing that there was nothing he could do to take Rosa out of the kitchen. Suddenly, he heard a crying sound muffling from Alfendi's bedroom, "Oh dear." The Professor quickly walked into the child's room, peering into the crib. Al was indeed awake and he was not too pleased, "Come here Al." He reached down and scooped up the baby, holding him tightly in his arms, "Let's get you some dinner, how does that sound?" Al made several baby noises and flapped his arms up and down, "Good, I suppose."

Layton exited the room just as a pounding echoed on the front door. He sighed, still gripping the child and reaching for the door knob. As soon as he twisted the door open, no one other than Don Paolo or Paul (whatever you'd like to refer to him as) barged into the room.

"Layton," he snarled, stepping in and wiping his feet on the door mat.

"Hello Paul," he replied, shifting the child's weight to his left arm and holding out his right hand, "Thank you for coming, it really means to me."  
"Yeah, yeah, save your sap story for later, _Layton_." He grumbled as he tried to slick his pointy hair back, "So is this the kid everyone's been making a big deal out of?" He pointed to Alfendi, sucking his thumb and bouncing in the Professor's arms.

"Yes, this is Alfendi," he responded, "Would you like to hold him; I have to fetch a bottle?"

"Erm…" Paul's facial expression changed almost immediately, he seemed to become deathly nervous in way Layton could only describe as _pediophobia_ (this is a real fright, the fear of children).

"It's quite all right if you don't feel comfortable Paul," he said, turning towards the kitchen.

"No, no," the mischievous Don Paolo said, "I can handle a baby, I mean…"

"Very well, here," Layton lift Al from under his arms and placed him in Paul's care, "I'll be back in a moment."

"Um." He stood there, awkwardly holding the baby out in front of him. The child cocked his head while looking at the villain with pointy hair and then started to laugh, "What are you laughing at kid?" Paul asked rhetorically, "It is more likely that I'd be laughing at you considering you still shit in your pants."

"Paul!" Somehow, Layton had heard him slip the word and the man let a grim smile reach from ear to ear.

"You'll hear it someday kid," he told the child, suddenly feeling a little more comfortable and letting Alfendi rest on his shoulder.

"Paul, please," Layton reentered the room with a bottle of formula and a blanket thrown over his shoulder, "Don't use language like that around him."

"It's not like he's going to remember it anyway," the man replied, handing the baby back to Layton, "So when is the food going to be ready… it seems to me I arrived a little early."

"Yes," the Professor said, "It's going to be ready soon, there are more people coming though." He said walking around to the other side of the sofa and sitting down, preparing to feed Alfendi, "So we should probably wait until then."

"Ah," the impish Don Paolo replied, "Who else was invited, if I might ask."

"Inspector Chelmey and his wife, Amelie accepted the invitation, along with one of my former students, Janice." The Professor seemed to think for a moment, "Constable Barton, Andrew Schrader, Dean Del-"

"What about that bratty kid, what was his name… Luke?"

"Um, well," Layton paused, "He's currently residing across the pond, unfortunately."

"So he's gone?" He sounded a bit offended, "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I wasn't planning on it," he replied, "You didn't seem all that fond of him."

"Well, you're right when you put it that way, but I still would have liked to know."

"I'm sorry then, for not informing you of his travels," Layton responded, leaning Al back and feeding him the bottle. The child instantly grabbed the glass and held onto it tightly.

"Apology accepted," a moment later the door was once again battered.

"Flora, dear could you answer the door!" The Professor yelled through the flat.

"Erm…" there was a shuffling in the kitchen "Yes, I will!" Flora burst through the wavering door and towards the front entrance, her apron dangling off of her neck and flour stuck to her nose. She twisted the knob and pulled the door open to reveal a young woman with red hair and brown eyes.

"Hello, you must be Flora," the woman said smiling, "I'm Janice, Janice Quatlane."

"Janice," Layton smiled as she entered the room, "Do come in."

"Thank you Professor," she smiled at him, taking off her coat and gently hanging it up on the coat rack, "So this must be Alfendi." She saw the small baby still drinking his dinner (although, most of it was gone already) and rounded the sofa, to sit next to the Professor.

"Yes," he laughed, "Here he is," the Professor sat Al up; formula was dripping from his lips. He quickly grabbed the blanket off of his shoulder and wiped the baby's mouth.

"Hello Alfendi," Janice tickled his belly, "Hello!" He giggled, "Professor, he's beautiful."

"Gimmie a break," Don Paolo mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" Janice looked towards the grumpy man, "I don't believe we've been introduced yet, I'm Janice."

"Don Paolo," he replied, "Or… or you could call me Paul."

"It's very nice to meet you Paul." She gave him a generous smile, and then turned around to look for Flora, but the girl had already reentered the kitchen, "Where did Flora go?"

"She's probably in the kitchen with Rosa, they're making dinner for us tonight," Layton responded, laying Al back down in order for him to finish the rest of his bottle.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to help them," Janice smiled, "It was nice meeting you Paul." The singer stood up and exited the living room to enter the kitchen.

"She's a stunner," Paul said as soon as the door closed behind her.

"Yes, I agree she is quite beautiful, not a terrible singer either."

"Do you know if she has a companion, if you know what I mean?"

"Paul," Layton scolded, "That is none of my business, and also, none of yours."

"Who are you to say what my business is or not…?" He grinned, standing up from the sofa.

"Paul," he repeated, almost standing up but realizing that Alfendi was still in his arms.

"I'll be back in a moment, _Layton_," he snickered before slipping inside the kitchen. The Professor sighed placing the empty formula bottle on the coffee table and holding Alfendi on his shoulder. He patted the infants back until a monstrous burp rang in his ear drums, "All done?" He smiled at the child, waving his arms and making more and more baby noises, "All done." The Professor was about to reenter the kitchen to put the bottle in the sink when the telephone started to ring.

"Hello?" Layton responded, balancing Alfendi in his left arm to answer the telephone with his right.

"Oi, Layton," it was Inspector Chelmey's voice on the phone; "We're running slightly late, we need you to get down to the station to pick up the boy."

"Oh yes, I completely forgot," he replied, "Do you need my signature, I mean, it's only for tonight."

"Yes, unfortunately, he cannot leave the eyes of the police or the station without approval from you. Course, Barton is driving him back 'ere right?"

"Oh Inspector, I'll take care of that, I just want everyone to have a good time."

"Always so considerate of others Layton, you're a good man," he laughed on the other line, "Well he's 'ere whenever you're ready to pick him up. I'm sure that most of the crowd is there."

"Yes, most of the guests have arrived," he replied, pushing the kitchen door open slightly and peering inside, "Only missing you and Mrs. Chelmey, Barton, Andrew Schrader, and Dean Delmona."

"And the boy of course," Chelmey added.

"Oh, yes of course."

"Just curious, does Flora know he's coming?" Chelmey asked.

"No, I completely forgot to tell her," for a moment the Professor became confused, "Why do you ask?"

"Only because when she last saw him, you know when you two were 'ere to pick up Alfred, 'er temper was off the roof."

"Well, I can imagine that," Layton replied.

"No, she was so angry, 'er little hand of 'ers nearly knocked the boy onto the floor."

"Do you mean… she hit him?"

"Yes, course I do!"

"She didn't tell me that," the Professor sighed, still holding little Alfendi.

"Course she didn't, didn't want to worry you," Chelmey responded.

"I see," he sighed, "I'll be down at the station momentarily Inspector."

"I'll see you then, Layton." He hung up the phone and quickly supported Alfendi with both hands. Why did Flora fail to tell him this? Why did she want to hide it, of course he knew how unladylike it was but the anger was understandable.

"Flora," the Professor slipped about half into the kitchen, "Dear, could you meet me out here."

"Yes Professor?" She ran out into the living room, her face even more coated with flour now.

"Could you hold onto Alfendi for a little while, I have to run out and get a few things."

"A few things?" Flora asked as the baby was dispensed into her arms, "Like what, I thought we had everything."

"We don't," he answered bluntly, "I'll be back in about an half an hour, if anyone comes to the door, just let them in, all right?"

"Very well," she responded as the Professor grabbed his coat and wrapped it around himself, "See you in a while."

"You too Flora."

Layton slipped into his car and turned on the ignition. He didn't know how he was going to ask Flora if she had actually hit someone or not. He was just so confused; it wasn't like her to lash out like that. He started driving down the cold streets, snow was just beginning to drift over head and it made things difficult to see, luckily Scotland Yard wasn't too far away from his flat and he reached the station in no time at all.

"Layton, you finally arrived," Chelmey pushed the door open as the Professor ran inside, "Oi it's quite bitter out there."

"Yes, I completely agree Inspector," he replied, shaking the snowflakes from his jacket, "Where is the paperwork?"

"Right over 'ere," he pointed to the front desk where a clip board was lying with a few pieces of paper attached to it, "Just sign in the place that have been highlighted, there shouldn't be too many of 'em." The Professor nodded, grabbing a pen and hastily scribbling his name down on the paper, "So how's Alf…" the Inspector scratched his head.

"Alfendi," Layton replied.

"That's right, Alfendi, how is the little fellow?"

"He's doing just fine actually, according to all of the books Flora has been reading, he's perfectly healthy." He paused to double-check through all the paperwork, "We still need to get him to a doctor though, for checkups and things."

"Yes, that seems like a good idea ta' me," Chelmey said as the Professor handed him the paperwork, "All done?"

"All done," the Professor replied.

"Barton, go fetch the boy!" The Inspector yelled towards the deputy with the long, distended chin.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"So Flora," he began, "She didn't tell you at all what had happened…?"

"Nothing at all actually," the Professor responded, placing the pen back on the front desk.

"Really…" he stroked his chin, "Seems a little strange, I mean, it's perfectly understandable, the rest of the city probably wants to hit him right 'ere," he gestured towards his chin, "You know?"

"Yes," Layton replied, "That's the problem; Flora knows that everyone else is just as angry, maybe even more so than she is at him. I don't see why she would keep it from me."

"Maybe it's because she doesn't want to disappoint you, Professor," Chelmey added.

"I can't be too sure until I speak with her…" he paused, "I'm curious, why couldn't Inspector Grosky join us this evening?"

"He has been wrapped up in a particular case for a few months now." Chelmey explained, "No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to pull him away from it. He's probably still in his office putting the pieces together."

"Oh, I wish he would join us," the Professor added just as Barton brought out the young man.

"As do I."

Clive was wearing a pair of jeans, a white dress shirt, an old hunter green long sleeved sweater over that, a pair of old brown shoes, and a worn through, combat styled jacket. His hair seemed to have been combed and brushed through, as if he made an effort to look nice and tucked under both of his arms were a few boxes decorated in red wrapping paper with Santa Klaus on it.

"Hello Professor," he smiled when he greeted Layton and Chelmey, "I can't thank you enough for inviting me to your party, it really does mean a lot."

"Oh, no worries Clive, it was a pleasure," He returned the smile to the young man.

"All ready?" Chelmey asked the two.

"Yes, we'll be heading back to my flat now," the Professor said, "Please, you, Barton, and Amelie may arrive whenever you're comfortable, dinner should be ready soon."

"Thank you Layton," Chelmey said, giving him a nod, "Wouldn't dream of missing it."

The two exchanged good-byes as Layton and Clive exited the station and headed out towards the Laytonmobile. It was a very chilly night as snow started to pile up on the streets and cars easily slipped on the roads. Although Layton wanted to ask Clive a few questions, he had to do so while still keeping a close eye on the streets.

"So Clive," he began, slowing down as a red light approached up ahead, "Inspector Chelmey told me something interesting about when Flora visited you a few months ago."

"Oh," the young man didn't even flinch, "Erm, what was it?"

"Clive, you don't have to lie to cover her up," he said simply, "I know she hit you and I understand why," he paused, "My question is why didn't you tell me?" Layton had visited Clive a number of times at the high security prison after he had adopted Alfendi and not once did the boy bring it up.

"I…" he sighed, "I didn't want her to get in any kind of trouble." He explained, "I absolutely deserved to be slapped, especially by her… so I just took it. It's not like it was completely out of the blue, it was the first time I had seen her since… the Incident."

"Yes," the Professor replied, "I do see that as a good excuse for the matter." He lightly hit the gas pedal and they drove through the snow, the flat was just around the corner.

"And I just want to be friends with everyone," Clive continued, "Staying angry without end doesn't solve a single problem," he sighed, leaning his head against the window.

"I understand Clive, but I want to let you know of one thing before we head inside," the Professor breathed in, he felt absolutely terrible for not mentioning this sooner, "Flora doesn't know that you will be attending this party."

"What?" Clive snapped forwards as the car was parked in front of the tiny flat, "She… she doesn't know? Is she still mad at me?" Panic aroused in his expression and Layton instantly felt guilty.

"Just… if you get the chance, try to talk to her," he paused, "She doesn't stay mad forever, I can guarantee that from experience."

"Very well," Clive swallowed as the two exited the car.

When they entered the flat, Dean Delmona and Andrew Schrader were already inside, standing in a corner of the room, drinking red wine and chatting about archeology or something else related to the subject. Janice was sitting on the couch as bouncing baby Alfendi giggled in her lap while Paul was awkwardly sitting on the same sofa, not speaking to anyone in the room. Flora and Rosa were still in the kitchen baking away, the Professor had to admit that it smelled delicious.

"Ah, Hershel!" Andrew smiled through his beard as her entered the room.

"The man of the hour!" Dean Delmona grinned, "Do join us, we've been chatting about your lectures and how fantastic they seem to be, attracting students from all over the country."  
"Oh geez," Don Paolo rolled his eyes.

"Oh don't flatter me," he replied, a little flustered.

"Ha-ha! Such an honest man indeed!" Andrew laughed, "Who is the lad standing behind you?" He looked behind the famous professor at the young man awkwardly swaying back and forth, trying to avoid being seen, it looked like anyway.

"Oh, this is Clive," the Professor introduced him, "He's…" he looked towards the boy who seemed to be a little ashamed of himself, "I've decided to take him under my wing," he said, "To help him out a little bit, his past hasn't been to clean, but I'm prepared to…" _how do I put this… _"Help him grow into the man he's supposed to be." He looked back at Clive who appeared to be satisfied with the response.

"How kind of you," Janice gave him a smile, "Hello Clive, my name is Janice; I was once a student of the Professor's." By this time, Andrew and Dean Delmona had started their conversation back up again and hoped for their good friend Hershel to join.

"Nice to meet you, Janice," Clive grinned as best as he could and began to slip his coat off.

"Clive," Don Paolo gave him a look of either resentment or sorrowfulness.

"It's nice to see you Paul, how have you been?"

"Fine, thanks for asking," he lifted his chin and made a _humph_ sound. Clive smiled and set his jacket on a hook of the coat hanger that was almost tipping over from the weight of coats. He placed his Christmas presents on the floor under the tree on the opposite side of the room and sighed. He knew that the night was either going to be very fun or quite uncomfortable.

"Professor," Janice said as Alfendi started to get fussy.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry about him, one moment," he walked over to his former student and lifted Alfendi off of her lap and carried him out of the main living space. Because Clive didn't really have anyone else to talk to, he followed him, "Do you want to see Flora?" the Professor rhetorically asked the baby before he slipped into the kitchen. Clive wasn't sure if he should enter considering Flora was most likely inside and she was most likely not going to be thrilled at his arrival.

A moment later, Clive heard a shuffling and the muffled sound of a baby crying. He could hear Flora's voice trying to coax him and suddenly the wavering room opened and she was standing in from of him. The second before she looked up, Clive nearly froze in his current position, unable to move or speak. When she did finally look up, the girl took a step back, almost tripping and falling over.

"Clive…" she asked as anger seemed to envelope her facial features, "What are you doing here." It was more of a statement than a question. The baby in her arms started to become restless as she stared deep into Clive's eyes.

"I'm… erm… I,"

"I'm not talking to a convict right now," she replied simply, walking past him and into Alfendi's room.

"Flora,"

"Not know," she said again, shutting the door behind her. It was only then that Clive realized that everyone in the room was watching him.

"Ex-girlfriend?" Don Paolo managed to say with a laugh and a head jerk. Clive scowled at the man and then dashed into the kitchen, "Professor," he walked in to smell something incredibly cheesy with a pinch of garlic and onions; of course it was absolutely delicious.

"Oh, hello my boy," the Professor grinned as he started to move dishes filled to the brim with holiday food onto the breakfast table in the corner, "Did you have a chance to speak with Flora…?"

"I would hardly call it speaking, actually," the boy replied, scratching the back of his head, "Professor, she's furious with me."

"Oh don't worry," he tried to coax the boy, "She'll warm up to you eventually, I promise."

"Can you be sure?"

"Clive, I've lived with her for a few years now, I'm positive."

…

After the Professor and Clive's short conversation, the Inspector, Amelie, and Barton arrived at the household. For a while, Clive was distracted from apologizing to Flora, he had a good chat with Don Paolo about disguises and machinery, as well as Janice about her profession as an opera singer. Of course, he neglected to mention the part of his life that involved _possible terrorist threats_ and _prison for life_. He even managed to have a rather boring conversation with Dean Delmona about archeology and even enrolling at Gressenheller in the near future (if he somehow managed to avoid life-long containment, that is).

At around seven o'clock, the food was beginning to be placed on the dining table and eventually everyone in the flat was called to sit and eat. Unfortunately for Clive (who had managed to save the remaining seat for Flora, next to him, when she entered the room), she was still trying to put little Alfendi to sleep as dinner began. Every few minutes, he would look through the kitchen and down the hall to see if she was exiting the baby's room, of course, she was not and it disappointed him greatly.

"So Hershel, how is the class going, I've heard you have many excitable students," Andrew asked, taking another sip of his wine.

"Yes," he shuddered, thinking of the blonde girl with green eyes and far too much lipstick, "Unfortunately, yes," he laughed, cutting his ham into several slices.

"I heard a few rumors," Dean Delmona pressed, "Are you debating bringing in Alfendi, you know, to show the class?"

"Oh, gracious no," the Professor replied, "I only told the students that so they would stop pressing me to do so. I was never actually considering it."

"What a shame, I'm sure they'd like to see the fellow." Andrew added.

"Yes," the Professor sighed, "But I must think of the child's safety first, college is a little more… rambunctious than it used to be." Many of the older men in the room laughed at that comment.

"Yes, I'm not sure bringing 'im there would do much good," the Inspector replied.

"Exactly so," the Professor said. He quickly scanned the room, most of the dinner plates were clear. He sighed slightly, leaning back to see if Flora had come out of Alfendi's room yet. He would have to save a plate for her. "If you don't mind," he wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on his chair as he stood up, "I will collect your plates and bring out the lovely dessert that Rosa and Flora have prepared for us."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Don Paolo immediately replied, shoving his empty platter forwards.

"Do you mind if I help?" Clive asked, standing up as well and reaching for several plates on the opposite side of the table.

"Not at all my boy," he smiled, "Thank you."

"No trouble," Clive returned the grin and started to stack the dishes on top of each other and hoisting them up towards the kitchen. The Professor quickly did the same, placing the dirty plates and utensils into the sink and then washing his hands.

"Clive, do you mind checking on Flora and Al… it usually doesn't take her this long to put him to bed."

"Erm," Clive shrunk, "I'm not sure if that's a pleasant idea."

"Please," he pleaded as the lifted the holiday themed cake off the counter top.

"Uh," he sighed, "I guess I can try." As the Professor brought the cake into the dining room, Clive, slowly but surely made his way down the hall, trying to avoid the squeaky floor boards of course. He stood next to Alfendi's door and pressed his ear against it, listening for Al's cries. Instead, he heard a soft, sweet voice singing the child a lullaby. Clive could faintly hear Alfendi whining, but he was calming down and it was beautiful to hear.

As Clive began to walk away, back into the dining room bustling with party guests, he heard a door shut behind him.

"What…" the look on Flora's face suggested that she was mortified at his presence, "What do you think you're doing?"

"The Professor asked me to check on you," Clive replied bluntly, "He told me it usually doesn't take this long to put Alfendi to bed and-"

"Shh…!" She whispered, pushing Clive away from the hall and into the living room, "You could wake him up, it already took me a long time to put him down."

"Sorry," Clive quickly apologized, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Flora responded harshly, brushing past him and heading into the kitchen.

"Flora," he almost grabbed for her arm, but chose against it, he didn't want her to think he wanted to control her.

"Just stop all right," she turned around, "You know I'm pissed off at you, just stop already, okay? Go back to prison already. Don't you understand that I don't want you in my life as much as you don't want me in yours?"

"There lies the problem, then," Clive added. She stopped walking for moment, thinking about what he had just said to her and then she sauntered away. "Damn it," he whispered, shaking his head and massaging his temple. He sighed and then proceeded to reenter the dining room area.

"Flora," the Professor called her over just as she sat down in a dining room chair, "Could you please help me with these dishes. He was hunched over the sink, scrubbing sticky food from the porcelain.

"No problem!" She chirped, her sour personality vanished and was replaced with her normal gleeful one.

"I hope you don't mind me asking dear," _Oh boy, I'm going to ask her about Clive, I'm going to do it. _"But did you by any chance… hit Clive when you saw him back at the station?" The girl froze, "When we first took Alfendi home."

"Erm," almost automatically, she started to sweat and her skin went cold.

"Flora, I'm not angry with you," he told her, still washing the plates, "I just want to know why you failed to tell me."

"Did Clive tell you…?" She asked.

"No," he replied frankly, "The Inspector did."

"Oh," she sighed.

"Flora, I want to know if you hit him or not."  
"I did, okay," she admitted, more fiercely cleansing the platters, "I was angry and it was in the heat of the moment and I just wanted some closure, you know? I wanted him to know that what he did was unacceptable."

"I'm sure he already knows that Flora," the Professor told her, "He doesn't need to hear it from-"

"But he does!" She shouted, and then covered her mouth with her soapy hands, "He does." She whispered, "At least from me."

"Flora," he peeled the rubber gloves off his hand and placed them over the edge of the sink, "I understand you, honestly," he placed one of his hands on her shoulder, "But I think he needs to know from you… in _another_ way." Flora sighed and looked down at her shoes.

"I guess I can give it a shot,"

…

To Layton's surprise, his party was a success. Dean Delmona was the first guest to leave and he departed at around eleven o'clock. He was followed by Andrew Schrader not five minutes later, then Janice, and finally Inspector Chelmey, his wife, and little Barton. Of course, Chelmey gave Layton a very strict set of instructions for bringing Clive back to the precinct.

1. "When you get inside, go looking straight for Colby, right away, oi you know, the lad with the chin that stretches out for miles."

2. "Once you find the boy, ask 'im for Clive's paperwork and hopefully 'ell get it for you."

3. "Then just sign 'im off and go home, simple as that."

4. "Oh! And he must be back there by one o'clock in the morning, that clear Layton?"

The Professor had replied with the statement that the directions were crystal clear and then proceeded to close the front door behind the detective and his family (and co-workers I suppose). The only guests still at the Layton household past eleven thirty were the infamous Don Paolo and Clive.

"Layton," Paul stretched himself out on the sofa making awkward grunting noises as his limbs lengthened, "I do believe I should-" he hiccupped in the middle of the sentence, "Get going." He looked as if he was going to barf at any given moment, his face was positively green.

"Paul," the Professor stood over him, grabbing his arms and pulling the drunken man up, "I don't think that you're fit to drive yourself home this evening."

"What are you talking about _Layton_," the man squinted his eyes, "I got in a taxi… besides, I can drive myself anywhere I want to drive myself."

"I'm not sure that idea is too wise."

"But…" the two began this argument as Clive put his jacket on by the front door. He knew that as soon as the Professor kicked Don Paolo out of the house and into a taxi that he would have to get going, back to the cold, dark high security prison cell he called home. He quickly wrapped the fabric around his torso, buttoning it up and securing it on his shoulders. He looked longingly at the presents he had purchased for the Professor and Flora (and even the baby which he had hoped he could have met). Clive wished that they could've opened them while he was there, just so he could feel the Christmas spirit in some form or another.

"Clive," the Professor said hoisting Don Paolo's arm over his shoulders, "Do you mind, hel-helping me with him?"

"Of course not," the young man ran to Don Paolo's free side and placed his body under him.

"I'm going to take him home," the Professor managed to spit out, "Do you mind staying home with Flora and Al for the time being?"

"Erm…"

"I feel terrible, it does seem like I'm setting you up, doesn't it?"

"A little bit Professor," he laughed, reaching for the front door knob and twisting it open.

"Just…" he sighed as he made his way down the front steps, "You don't have to speak to her, I realize that the girl is still fuming."

"Yes, quite," Clive replied, taking his last step down onto the slippery pavement. It had snowed quite a bit since he had last been outside and the temperatures were dropping at record speeds. He was having a hard time staying upright.

"Clive," the Professor grunted, "Could you open the backseat… ugh… the backseat door?"

"Definitely," he responded, reaching over and yanking the door open.

"Thank you," the Professor managed a smile as he slumped Don Paolo's drunken body into the backseat, lightly kicking in his legs that were dangling outside.

"It was nothing," the boy said, shivering as the cold started to nip at some of his bare skin, "So should I head back inside?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly, "I'll be back in no time at all; Paul doesn't live too far away from here."

"Okay," Clive sighed, "I'll see you in a while, Professor."

"You too Clive." The boy quickly raced up the icy steps and slipped inside the flat, remembering to quietly close the front door for Alfendi's sake. He peered into the kitchen on his left, Flora was still washing the dishes from dessert and rinsing out the wine glasses.

"Professor, I-" she turned her head to see Clive standing at the door, returning his jacket to the coat hanger, "What are you still doing here, didn't the Professor just leave to take you back to jail?" The last part of that statement hit Clive… hard. He swallowed lightly and started to walk towards her, only to stop and lean in the door frame.

"Don Paolo got drunk, so the Professor is driving him home," Clive replied emotionlessly.

"Well everyone at this party could see that," she said, scrubbing the dishes clean.

"Okay then," Clive gave her a short nod and turned around on the soles of his feet, progressing towards the sofa.

"Where do you think you're going?" Flora asked, peeling the rubber gloves from her fingertips and sloppily splashing them in the dishwater.

"To sit down." He responded, plopping on the sofa and leaning back, "By the way, how do you turn on the television?" His sudden casual manner frustrated Flora to the point where she wanted to slap him multiple times.

"Listen you-"

"You what?" Clive stood up as she rounded the couch, standing over her, "You criminal? You jailbird? You worthless piece of shit? _You_ know what _Flora_, I'm so sick of hearing that from _you_!" He shouted at her.

"Don't you dare shout at me in my own house," Flora tested him, raising one of her fingers, "You have no idea what kind of things you have put me through, _Clive_," she paused as her eyes started to water, "Not only you, but everyone else is this damned world." She sat down on the sofa, her hands covering her face.

"You think you're the only one?" Clive's voice softened but he still retained a slight tone of angry and force, "You think that you're the only one who feels pain? Who feels that no one cares or no one is there, I'm sorry to disappoint you princess, but there are more people written in this sad story."

"Do _not_ call me princess," she stood up, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Then what should I call you?" Clive asked, his eyebrows raised, his dark eyes looking down at her.

"Broken!" She screamed, hitting him hard on the chest repeatedly with her fists until she didn't possess enough energy to do it anymore, "I'm so broken." She whimpered as she threw her last punch, "I feel like all of my pieces have just been kicked somewhere, somewhere I'll never find them. And I'm just supposed to live, like this, with nothing more than a shell that's just about to crack."

Suddenly Alfendi started to wail from his bedroom. Flora quickly wiped the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hands and stepped away from Clive, running towards the baby's room. He just stood there for a moment, unable to contemplate what had just happened. He wasn't sure whether he should talk to her or not, considering she wasn't in a good mood anyway.

After a few minutes he could hear Alfendi's cries cease and the door to his room shut. Clive turned around to see Flora standing in the doorway, her arms draped around each other. She refused to make eye contact with him as she strolled into the kitchen sniffling. He swallowed down any fear that had somehow inched up his throat and progressed towards the kitchen, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"Don't think about apologizing," Flora said immediately as he arrived, "Obviously that hasn't worked out too well in the past." She managed to wipe her nose with her sleeve as she scrubbed the dishes in the sink.

"As you wish," he replied, breathing out and sitting down at the breakfast table, "Could we just-"

"Don't say start over," she sighed, "Do not say that to me." She dropped the plate she was currently washing back into the basin and turned around to face him, "No matter how much I wish we could we can't and you even know that."

"Maybe so," he admitted looking up at her, "But I need you to know that I regret what happened," he told her, wringing his hands together, "I want it to just disappear from my record, I want a clean slate."

"You're not the only one who wants things," she told him.

"I wasn't saying I that was the only one," he replied, "I want you to know that though."

"Why?"

"As much as you would like to disagree with me, we're incredibly similar," he stood up, "And once I've let my past go, maybe…" he swallowed looking into her eyes, "Maybe you'll let yours go too." Flora opened her mouth but then closed it, licking her lips.

"Heaven knows I've tried," she whispered, closing her eyes and then taking off the rubber gloves.

"Flora," he began.

"When the Professor gets back, tell him that I've gone to bed," she set the gloves back down and pushed herself forwards, "Good night," she looked at him sorrowfully and exited the kitchen.

"Wait," he ran out of the room and over to the wilting Christmas tree. He ducked under the needles and grabbed the small wrapped box tied with a ribbon. He stood up, charged in her direction, and handed it to the girl, "Happy Christmas Flora." She uneasily let him set the box in her hands. She looked at it for moment without saying a word before she peeled the paper from the box and had untied the ribbon. She let the wrappings fall onto the floor as her delicate hands grasped the top to the package.

"You remembered…?" Inside the container was a novel that she had pointed out, it seems like a lifetime ago, in a small bookshop located in Chinatown back in Future London. It was murder mystery, Flora's favorite genre of book and not even the Professor remembered that about her.

"Good night, Flora," Clive said shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I…"

"Oh, it is quite chilly out there!" The Professor opened the front door quite loudly as he entered the flat, "Oh, I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Clive replied easily, walking around Flora, "Nothing at all." He smiled at the Professor as he prepared himself for the cold that was about to hit him when he walked out the door.

"Very well," the Professor responded, propping the door open with his foot as Clive slipped past him, "I'll be back in a short while Flora," he said to the girl. She was still facing the opposite direction, looking down at the book in the box.

"I'll see you then." She replied before turning towards her room and ducking inside. She angrily shut the door behind her and shrunk to the floor. "I'm nothing like him… I'm nothing like him." She repeated, "No, I'm nothing like him!" Flora looked down at the box and pushed the book out into her lap. As she sighed for the last time that night she opened it to page one.

_Helllllo! Sorry about the length of this chapter! I told myself that I would stop writing after 3,000 words… but it just kept going! Sometimes writing works like that I guess! I hope you liked this chapter, I admit, there was a LOT of drama involving two young people that I always seem to put together… sorry… ahaha… I HAD TO I'M SORRY. Anyway, thanks for the reviews and thanks for reading! Please review! -Lilliana_


	6. Chapter 5: Risk Taking

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 5: Risk Taking**

For weeks after winter break, the Professor's students continued to pester him about meeting little Alfendi. He would always reply in the simplest, yet must straight forward method possible: "No." He didn't necessarily want to disappoint his students in that way, but he knew that bringing Alfendi to such a dangerous environment would only end in tragedy. But each day as he entered the lecture hall, the undergraduates would crowd around him and beg to meet the child and eventually he caved in.

The Professor drove into the university's parking lot on a Tuesday (Rosa's day off in case you were curious) with Flora and little Alfendi in the back seat. He sighed as the car slowed into a parking spot and he pressed the brake pedal into the floor.

"Ready dear?" The girl laughed as he turned around to look at them.

"As I'll ever be." She grinned at him, unclipping the straps that buckled Alfendi in. He was now seven months old, he had almost mastered the art of crawling and it was driving Flora nearly insane, "Come here buddy." She lifted him into her arms, securing the coat buttoned around him. Even though the world was heading into the depths of spring, the chills still seemed to cling to the air around them.

The three fully exited the automobile, locked it, and then proceeded to enter the university as light rain drops felt onto their heads (and hats). Once inside, the Professor directed them towards the lecture hall where he generously offered Flora a cup of tea as well as a seat at his desk in the front of the room. She had to admit that sitting in front of a crowd of eager college students made her quite nervous, but she didn't want to disappoint anyone so she took a seat and waited for the undergraduates to file in.

In a matter of minutes, people flooded the room, or should I say, they flooded around Flora to get a peak at the Professor's son. It overwhelmed the girl greatly as they stuck their hands in front of the baby in hopes he would grab them or as they made irritating noises to get his attention. Even the baby himself seemed to become overpowered by the amount of young adults crowding around him and inevitably, he began to cry. Around this moment in time, the Professor entered the room, almost spilling the tea he had just prepared, as well as dropping his lesson plans and other assortments of papers.

"Professor…" Flora said quietly as she was swallowed by the crowd of students.

"All right," he broke the horde away and the people dispersed into their assigned seats, "Please have some manners," he scolded them, picking up Alfendi from Flora's arms and bouncing him up and down to stop his tears.

"Someone get a picture!" Rosetta squealed, sitting in the front row of the lecture hall, "Come on, somebody has got to have a camera!"

"Shut up Rosetta!" A male voice shouted from the back of the room.

"Now, now," the Professor sighed, handing Al back to his daughter, "As much as you'd like to think today is a leisure day, it's not." A sigh echoed in complete unison throughout the room, "Please open your textbooks to chapter 7."

The class went by faster than Flora expected. She was quite intrigued at what the Professor was teaching and she actually wanted to stay longer to hear more. Unfortunately, Al became fussy more quickly than she expected and she had to retire to his office to prepare him for lunch.

"Come on Al," Flora grabbed the baby bag, spilling its contents on the floor of the Professor's office, "Please stop crying." He was sobbing into one of Flora's shoulders as she used her free hand to gather the fallen objects, "We're going to get lunch in just a bit." She tried to sooth him. He continued to make whining noises and clench his small fists. "Shh…" she sat down on the sofa and placed him in the baby carrier.

He almost immediately calmed down and started to drift into sleep. She sighed, relaxing a little bit. She knew that after the Professor's last morning lecture, they could head off to lunch and then he could take her home and the disaster of a day would finally be over. She hummed a little song to herself as the baby began to get sleepy.

"Flora," the Professor quietly opened the door to the office, "I just finished my last lecture for this morning."

"Great," she replied, "Then we can head out to lunch?"

"Of course," he smiled stepping inside and placing his folders on his desk, "Where would you like to eat?"

"Erm…" she pursed her lips together and let air flow out through her nose, "How about the new Noodle Palace, on Winchester Street?"

"That seems wonderful too me," he gave her a light smile as he organized the paperwork on his desk. "As soon as Al is done, we can head out."

"Sounds like the plan."

…

The two arrived at the Noodle Palace about fifteen minutes after the clock struck noon. It was lunch hour for, it seemed like, everyone. There were almost no parking spaces and because it had opened not two months before, it was packed. Luckily Layton knew the owner (not too closely, but it's easy to say he saved her life).

"Oi!" A short woman with an orange bandanna wrapped around her dark hair pushed her way through the crowd, "Mr. Layton."

"Good afternoon Pepper," he tipped his hat, scanning the room for any empty seats.

"Good afternoon to you sir," she grinned, "Please follow me, there is an empty seat in the back that you can happily fill if you'd like."

"Oh there is no need-"

"Course there is! This way Mr. Layton!" Pepper managed to squeeze through the group of people and presented a small four seat table in the back of the restaurant. The table was right next to a window which gave the two a view of the Thames.

"Oh thank you, Pepper is it?" Flora grinned, setting down Alfendi's baby carrier.

"Yes dear," the woman returned the smile, "If you need anything just let me know, okay?"

"Thank you Pepper," the Professor replied, sitting down.

"Oh it's nothing compared to saving my life sir!" She said, giving them a nod and then reentering the horde.

"She was from Chinatown, wasn't she?" Flora asked as a waiter pushed a baby seat next to the table and grabbing one of the excess chairs to haul it away.

"Yes, when Clive's machine went haywire, Inspector Chelmey retrieved everyone below on my command." He wringed his fingers, "I suppose that's why she gave us this lovely table." He unbuckled Al from his baby carrier and lifted him into the baby seat, securing the tray around him.

"Yeah," Flora agreed and sighed as the same waiter approached them to take their orders. Moments after, (Flora ordered an iced tea and the Professor ordered a Belle Classic) Alfendi started to get fussy. She quickly looked through the contents of the baby bag to find an almost empty jar of squash puree.

"Do we have enough for him?"

"I think so," she replied twisting off the cap and taking out a spoon from the bag, "Are you hungry Alfendi?" He made a considerable amount of baby noises as she dipped the spoon into the jar, "Here comes the train!" She laughed as she fed him the squash.

"Here you go," the waiter returned with their drinks and held up his pen and paper, "Are you ready to order?"  
"Not quite," the Professor replied, picking up a menu for the first time, "Could you give us a few more minutes?"

"Of course," he said, taking a step back and walking away.

"Professor," Flora said meekly, "I think I'll just have the classic pork noodle bowl."

"That sounds quite good to me as well," the Professor replied, he looked through the menu at all of the choices. He liked Asian cuisine because of all of the exotic options, "Flora, may I talk to you about something?"

"Course you can," she said, giving him an odd look, "What's up?"

"Well," he began, "I realize that it is your life…" he paused to stroke his chin, "But I think that you should at least try to go to university next semester."

"Professor," she started.

"Before you turn this down, I just… I want to tell you how wonderful college is, you saw it today, I mean…"

"Professor I definitely want to go to college," she said, "At least, at one point. But we just got Alfendi five months ago and… I don't know, I just want to take care of him for a little while." She scratched the back of her head, "But." The girl paused again, "I would like to get a job."

"Really?" He asked surprised.

"Yes," Flora responded, still feeding Alfendi his lunch, "I kind of want go to work, the idea sounds so fascinating to me." The two laughed.

"Well what sort of thing would you be looking for my dear?"

"Erm…" she sighed, "Probably part time, like bagging grocery items or working as an intern."

"I know that Scotland Yard has been looking for interns to organize files recently," the Professor responded, "Maybe Inspector Chelmey would take you up on that offer."

"That sounds wonderful!" She clapped her hands together, "Maybe I could take care of Al for a few days a week and Rosa could come in for the rest." The Professor nodded in response, taking a sip of his tea. His daughter was finally becoming an adult.

…

Flora scheduled an interview and had the job in less than two weeks. She was extremely excited to finally do something besides clean baby's spit up off of her clothes. Not only that, but she was finally going to be treated as if she was an adult and that is what excited her the most.

The first day of the internship, she dressed up as professional as she could, with a pencil skirt and heels. She was the picture of sophistication and she liked to show it off. Flora arrived at the station at half past seven in the morning, happy to start working. In all honestly, she didn't know what to expect and it probably would have been better if she did.

Flora came back to the flat at around five o'clock. She had a few ink droplets on her shirt, as well as a cheap coffee stain marking her new pencil skirt. Her hair was falling out of its (used-to-be-tight ponytail) and draping over her eyes with where red. Her red nail polish was chipping and she had a number of paper cuts on her hands.

"Oh!" the Professor nearly dropped the cup of tea in his hand, "How was your first day, dear?" She gave him a look.

"How do you think?" She snapped, kicking off her heels and letting out a sigh of relief.

"I was only asking," he said, patting the sofa cushion next to him, "Please sit down."

"Flora, I hear-" Rosa stepped out of the kitchen with Alfendi pulling her hair, "Goodness gracious!"

"I know," she sighed, slumping next to the Professor, curling up next to him, "I know, I know, I know."

"What happened darling?" Rosa asked.

"Well," she sniffled, "When I got there, it seemed fine to me, I mean…" she took her hair out in order to fix it, "I was directed to an office and told to organize a series of files from robbery cases from a few years ago in chronological order. And you'd think that'd be easy, right? No. There were nearly one hundred files from over the course of like… ten years or something and I kept getting years mixed up and everything, ugh, it was horrible."

"I'm sorry dear," Rosa stroked her hair.

"That is also where I got my first paper cut and I nearly bled over three files." She sighed, "Then! Get this; I had to direct visitors to see their loved ones in prison, or something. So, I did as I was told and everything was fine for a little bit, but then when I was showing one family where to go, their kid got lost. I mean, seriously? You can't keep track of your own kid? So I had to go sleuthing for him all over the station. When I finally found him… well I guess I could say he found me…" she pursed her lips, "Yes, I guess so. He was wearing some toy mask that he had brought with him and he just jumped out of nowhere and scared the hell out of me!"

"Now Flora," the Professor began.

"No, you do not understand!" She cried, "It was so scary! So I'm running down the hall and I forget this kid, right? And his mom is freaking out and then I started freaking out, even though I didn't want to find him anyway. So then Barton offers to come with me to look for him and then we find him and bring him back to see his loved one that is locked up." She shook her head, "And then, after that, I was asked to help this chic named Monica with answering phone calls and addressing letters and things. She's the receptionist, I think…" Flora tapped her chin.

"Yes, I believe that I've met her." The Professor chimed in.

"Anyway," she continued, "That is where the rest of these paper cuts came from _and _a weird lady came in and started talking to Monica. She sounded really excited about something which caused her to fling her arms around, knocking a cup of coffee right onto me… and it was _hot_! So then that lady took me to the bathroom to try and get it out but neither of us could and I can easily say that I'm still extremely angry at her."

"Now Flora," the Professor laid one of his hands on her shoulder, "Do you still feel okay about working there…?"

"Yes!" She sounded offended, "I wouldn't quit for anything!" She stood up, "Now I'm going to shower, I'll come out for dinner in a little bit." She left the room, leaving the Professor quite confused.

"Do you understand what she means…?" He shook his head, "I mean… I just…"

"Ha-ha!" Rosa laughed, "Do you think that I understand?"

"Maybe…" he swallowed, "But I suppose no one is quite like Flora."

"Good answer," she grinned, "Would you take the kiddo for a moment while I finish supper?"

"Of course," the baby was passed into his arms and smiled.

_Hey guys! Sorry for not updating sooner, I kinda forgot ahaha, anyway, here is chapter 5! I want to thank all of you for reviewing, I really appreciate your feedback! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter, little Flora is growing up in a way! Thanks for reading and please review! -Lilliana_


	7. Chapter 6: A Tragedy

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 6: A Tragedy **

The steps of Scotland Yard were soaked with rain that had poured from clouds the night before. The whole station seemed to be in a mood that was reflecting off the water on the pavement. A tragedy had occurred, to say in the simplest way, and no one at the station was taking it very well. Flora entered that morning with her lips tightly pressed together and her hands folded in front of her. She didn't know how any work was going to get done, she honestly didn't know if anyone would even show up.

She entered one particular office, pulling a large box filled to the brim with files all pertaining to one specific case. The one this inspector had failed to solve and the same one Flora was prepared to avenge him for.

"Flora," Inspector Chelmey stood at the doorway, swallowing back tears, "I'm asking you this in the most polite way possible… please leave."

"Inspector," she set the box down, "I want to help you solve this case, it is the reason that everything happened."

"I realize that Flora but…" he blinked back the tear drops forming in his eyes, "I think… for the sake your safety as well as…"

"Inspector, I knew him too," Flora persisted, "Maybe not as closely as you, but I knew him and I feel like I should contribute to something, anything!"

"Flora," the Inspector said, "Please go home." She angrily exited the room, pushing herself past him as he let tears silently stream down him face. Flora ran down the steps, grabbing her coat and purse from behind the front desk.

"Hey, coffee girl," a strange woman in yellow stopped Flora in her tracks, "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"No," the girl replied upsettingly, "Something has happened and I just," she wiped under her eyes.

"What do you mean?" The woman became tense.

"I can't tell you," Flora told her.

"Yes you can, I'm-"

"I can't tell you," she repeated, draping her coat around her shoulders and letting tears slide down her face and drip off her chin.

"Does it," the woman swallowed, "Does it involve the call I received this morning about… about Inspector Grosky?" Flora's face contorted and she let out a sob, throwing her arms around the woman's neck. The gesture was the answer that the woman was afraid to hear and she quietly let tears slide down her face and catch in her dark thick hair.

"Oh my God," Inspector Chelmey whispered as he saw the embrace, "It can't be."

"Inspector?" The woman turned around, her face red from crying and her jacket wet from rain, "It can't be true… he can't be gone…?"

"Oh my goodness," the Inspector swallowed, "I'm so sorry."

"No!" She screamed, falling onto her knees and lancing her fingers through her hair, "It couldn't have ended like this…"

"Flora, please, ring the Professor, now," the Inspector looked towards the broken girl, "Now." She nodded, running towards the telephone as the woman's shrieks only got louder. For a moment, there was nothing but silence on the other line and it was unnerving.

"Hello," the Professor answered.

"Professor, please get down to Scotland Yard now," Flora whimpered, "There's not a single person here who can take this anymore." She silently cried as the woman screamed louder, her cries and tears flooding the station as if she was going to cry a river.

"What, why, Flora what is going on…? What happened, did you neglect to tell me something?"

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I couldn't bring myself to tell you…"

"Flora, what… what happened?"

"Inspector Grosky is dead." She said, pulling the telephone away from her face to let cries escape from her mouth, "He was shot dead early this morning…"

"I'll be over in a moment's time."

…

Flora sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area. Her hands were clammy and her eyes were sore from crying. She could openly admit that she was not close with Grosky, in fact she had only spoken to him a total of probably three times, maybe four. But she had heard his heroic stories, she had heard his unmistakable laugh, and she knew how much other people loved him.

The Professor arrived at Scotland Yard ten long minutes after Flora had called him. He could feel the pain and sadness echoing inside the building as soon as he stepped in. He felt a pain in his chest when it beat and his breath was cut short. Grosky was dead and the Professor knew from plenty of experience that there was no way to bring him back.

"Professor," Flora stood up and immediately wrapped herself in his embrace. The two stood there for a moment, unable to believe that what they had heard of was actually happening, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, honestly," she whispered, "But I just couldn't do it without getting choked up."

"It's," he swallowed, "it's all right dear."

"Layton," the Inspector said quietly, "I need to speak with you privately for a moment."

"Flora I-" She just nodded, slipping away from him and sitting herself back down in the chair, covering her face with her hands.

"This way," the Inspector led him down the hallway and up a flight of stairs, "I didn't think that I would ever get to say this to you, Layton."

"What do you mean, 'get to say this.'?" He asked confused as Chelmey twisted the door knob to his office open, "Dear Lord."

"Professor," the woman stood up. Her long dark hair sticking up at odd ends, her yellow jacket wet from the rain, tears fresh on her eyes, "I understand that it's been a while."

"Emmy," he managed to choke out of his throat, wrapping his arms around her, "Oh my dear, it's so good to see you."

"You as well," she swallowed, squeezing him tighter. They stood there for a few moments, not saying anything. It had been a while since he had seen her; in fact it had been a while since he had seen anyone from that period of time. And out of everyone, he missed her most.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I had no idea."

"It's quite all right," she replied, "It's just a surprise… that's all."

"I hate to ruin this moment," Inspector Chelmey stepped into the room, "But we still have a murderer to catch."

"Of course," the Professor answered, taking a step away from Emmy, "Please," he shook his head to drive out the dizziness, "Please fill me in."

"That might not be easy," Chelmey scratched his head, "Layton, I think you should sit down."

"What, why?" He asked frightened, "What other surprises am I going to have to face today?"

"Please," the Inspector directed, "This isn't any easier for me-"

"I just…" the Professor massaged his temple, "I can take whatever you're about to say, just tell me."

"Layton," Chelmey began.

"I can handle-"

"We think Grosky and Bethany's kill are one in the same!" The Professor felt as if he couldn't breathe for a moment.

"What- what do you mean?" He asked, "You said yourself, you caught him! You told me that you caught her murderer!"

"Well, I was wrong!" Chelmey yelled in return, "I was wrong! The bastard admitted to everything, somehow, he even had evidence to prove he was there! But we have reason to believe, now, that he was lying."

"Why, what kind of information could you possibly have that would make you think any differently?!"

"Layton calm down!" Chelmey cried, "Listen to me, I promise you this, we will find Bethany and Grosky's killer." The Professor swallowed and looked down at the floor, "I promise."

"But how…?" He stood, dumbfounded, "What connection do they even have, did they even know each other?"

"The only connection we have between them is you!" He shouted, "Layton, you're the connection!" The Professor was mortified.

"People… people are being killed because of me…?" He shut his eyes tightly, "Why…?"

"We don't know much so far, we're investigating both crime scenes at the moment, we're trying to find anything in common with the two."

"Professor," Emmy wiped tears from both her eyes, "Will you be all right?" He sighed with regret and sadness.

"In all honesty," he turned to her, "I don't know."

…

The Professor took Flora home shortly after that. His mind was clouded with thoughts, he could barely remember anything from the past few hours because his couldn't focus on anything in front of him. He knew very little about the situation and he knew it posed a threat to his children, so leaving them home alone wasn't an option.

"Rosa, please," he begged, "I will pay you double, just please, stay here over night. Chances are I will not return until tomorrow afternoon, maybe even later."

"Okay, okay, geez Professor!" She laughed, little Alfendi was gripping her shirt with his hands, "I'll stay, and dear you do not have to pay me for this, honestly, you should know that by now!" Rosa grinned, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Rosa," he gave her a small hug, including Alfendi and then called Flora over, "If anything happens you know who to call."

"I know," the girl swallowed, "Professor, I'm so scared."

"Don't be," he reassured her, "This whole situation will be solved, I promise." She nodded, trying to agree with him, but she was already emotionally petrified as it was.

"Okay," she whispered, embracing him, "I love you." He tightened his grip around his daughter.

"I love you too."

Moments later, Layton was in his car driving back towards Scotland Yard in hopes of tracking the mystery criminal down. He knew he could trust Chelmey with his life and yet… he was still questioning whether the decisions he was making were correct.

Minutes passed before he reached the station, pulling his classic car up to the building and stepping out. The air was uncomfortably humid and moisture seemed to soak through the Professor's clothes. He quickly locked his automobile and entered the building to secure himself from the weather.

"Layton," Chelmey ran towards him, grasping files in his fists, "I think I've got something."

The two shut the door to Chelmey's office. Emmy was sitting inside organizing a series of files and evidence from Grosky's murder that they had collected not hours before. Chelmey had in his hand just some of the case files from Bethany's murder, gripping them tightly to avoid losing them.

"Hello," Emmy gave the Professor a weak smile as he entered. He knew that not returning the smile wouldn't be polite, but he couldn't seem to do it. He just gave her a nod.

"We've got something," Chelmey explained, smacking the files down on his desk.

"Like what?"

"The night of Bethany's death, her presumed murderer said that when he entered the house, Bethany was in her kitchen." Chelmey started to take out photos that had been taken that terrible night. In the first picture, her body was on the floor of her living room, a pool of blood flooding the carpet around her. Another depicted the broken back window, along with the kitchen in the left corner.

"So?"

"He said in his statements that he broke the glass and shot her as soon as he saw her… in the kitchen." Inspector Chelmey grabbed one of the photographs, "If he had shot her in the kitchen, wouldn't there be blood in that room?"

"Right!" Emmy grinned, "If he had shot her in the kitchen, she would have left a trail of blood."

"If that man actually killed her, I'd presume that he'd know where he shot her." The Professor stroked his chin, "And it wouldn't make one bit of sense to lie about that if he was confessing to the murder, would it?"

"Not at all," Chelmey smiled, "I'll call over the prison, tell them to bring the liar 'ere."

…

"So Fitzpatrick Capello," the Inspector stood over the criminal, combing his mustache with his fingers. Emmy sat next to him, organizing files into a folder while the Professor was watching through the one way mirror on the back wall.

"Call me Fitz," the criminal replied.

"We have reason to believe that you lied about killing the young Bethany Dane, Mr. Capello." Chelmey continued.

"That's ridiculous," Fitz replied, "Why would I confess to a murder I didn't commit, it's not like a man wants to be in prison for life."

"Well that's what we thought." Emmy replied swiftly to his comment, "What motive could you possibly have for lying about committing a murder?"

"Exactly," he confirmed, about to stand up.

"Not so fast," Emmy continued, "While it's not logical, we have evidence to prove it."

"What kind of evidence?"

"Would you kindly repeat what happened the night of Bethany Dane's murder?" Inspector Chelmey asked.

"Okay, fine," the man looked at both officers, shrugging, "I broke in through the back window using the handle of the pistol I was carrying. It shattered the glass and I stepped inside, I saw the woman in the kitchen putting some stuff away or something and I panicked. So I shot her twice in the stomach and ran away."

"What was the original reason for breaking and entering anyway?" Emmy asked.

"Well, I was hoping to grab some jewelry or something… I don't know, I needed some quick cash!"

"But you neglected to grab anything on your way out of the flat…" she pressed.

"As I said before, I panicked and ran out," Fitz explained, "I was afraid she was going to call the police."

"Okay…" she scribbled some things down in a notebook laced with papers, "Mr. Capello, I can confirm that you are innocent of this terrible crime!"

"What!" The young man pushed himself out of his chair, "What do you mean? I just admitted everything!"  
"That's the thing," Emmy pointed out, "Your statements, they don't match the facts, not one bit at all actually."

"You must be out of your God dammed mind then," he closed his eyes looking smug as he sat back down in his chair.

"I am most certainly not out of my 'God dammed mind.'" She replied fiercely, pulling photographs out of the folder, "Take a look at these pictures Mr. Capello," she pushed them to him, "Anything seem strange?"

"No," he responded, barely looking at them.

"Well, I see something pretty peculiar," she spread them out alongside the table.

"See 'ere," the Inspector stepped forwards, placing his finger on the photo depicting Bethany's corpse, "Anything strange?"

"Just a dead body," Fitz swallowed.

"It's not just a dead body, Mr. Capello," the Inspector said, "You said in your statements that you shot Ms. Dane _in the kitchen _and then proceeded to _run away_." His teeth grinded together, "How do you explain her body laying on the floor of her living room, not a trace of blood anywhere else in the house except in the child's room, left by Ms. Dane's rescuer!"

"Ms. Dane's rescuer…"

"What are you jabbering on about now," Emmy asked, "You know what else we discovered, Mr. Capello," she pulled out the photo of Grosky's murder, his body laying in an uncomfortable position in an alley on the bad side of town. The woman almost let a tear fall from her eye at the sight, "This murder, along with Ms. Dane's were related."

"Do you care to explain how you somehow, magically walked through the prison walls to commit this murder?"

"I didn't kill him, whoever he is," the criminal scoffed. Emmy almost launched herself at him.

"Well someone did, Capello!" She screamed, "And unless you decide to tell us who you're working with, we're-"

"You're going to what?" He flashed a smile, "I admitted to killing that lady, right there," he tapped his finger on Bethany's photo, "But not this silly Elvis imposter," he laughed, "So you can either tell me to go back to prison or you can set me off on my merry way… your choice constable."


	8. Chapter 7: Visitors

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 7: Visitors **

The Professor arrived home not long after Fitz Capello's interrogation. He couldn't seem to say focused on anything, his mind drifted back to the horrible events of the night nearly seven months earlier. He shook his head and twisted the door knob open, slipping into his home for the first time in twenty-four hours.

"Professor…?" Flora was sitting on the sofa, attempting to read a magazine, but her mind drifted away.

"Hello," he mumbled, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh Professor!" Rosa came out of the kitchen, Alfendi bouncing in her arm while a ceramic bowl was balanced in the other, "Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Thank you for the offer," he said quickly, walking towards the telephone hanging on the left wall, "But I need to return to the station."

"Professor," Flora began.

"I'm sorry dear," he said quietly, grapping the receiver, "But there is a probable chance that I will not be sleeping here for the next few days."

"What…"

"This case…" he swallowed, "It has proven to be much more complicated that I first anticipated."

"What do you mean?"

"It… I'll explain later, I promise." He replied pulling the phone to his ear as his opposite hand dialed a series of numbers.

"Promise?" He nodded as someone on the other line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Ma?" His voice cracked, "Ma, I… please, I need you and Pa here."

"Hershel?" A feminine voice answered, "Oh my goodness, darling, what is ever the matter?"

"I just need you to stay here for a while, something has happened and I need you to look after Flora and Alfendi."

"Yes," she said, "One moment dear, I'll- I'll talk to your father." He heard a shuffling on the other end of the telephone and he breathed out. He couldn't leave Flora and Alfendi alone every night and he knew that Clive wasn't going to be released from prison for at least a few more years. So he had to find someone to look after them.

"Hershel?"

"Yes?"

"I think we'll be able to come down for a little while," Mrs. Layton said, smiling on the other side.

"Oh my goodness," he smiled, "Thank you Ma, I really appreciate it, this means the world to me, I-"

"Oh shh," she laughed, "It's what grandparents do for their grandchildren!"

"Thank you," he said simply, "I love you, Ma."

"I love you too dear, now hand the phone to Flora, I want to talk to my lovely granddaughter."

"Of course," Layton replied, pulling the cord closer to his daughter, "Mrs. Layton would like to speak with you."

"With me…?" She asked.

"Yes, she claimed that she wants 'to talk to her lovely granddaughter.'" Flora smiled at his comment, taking the phone in her hands and pressing it next to her ear.

"Hello?"

The Professor shoved his hands into his pocket, turning and heading into the kitchen where Rosa was still preparing lunch. Alfendi was sitting in the baby seat playing with a bowl of yogurt spilling in front of him.

"Have you decided if you're going to stay for lunch, Professor?" Rosa grinned, stirring a pot of extra cheesy macaroni and cheese.

"I'm sorry Rosa," he apologized, "I have to return to the station, but in the meantime…" he sighed, leaning against the counter top, "My parents are going to be staying here to take care of Flora and Al for the next few weeks."

"Oh," she seemed disappointed, but it rubbed off quickly.

"If you want to, Rosa, you can come by and help out, I mean we both know that Flora's not the greatest cook," he whispered the last few words of the sentence.

"Of course!" She smiled, "I love these two," she gestured towards Alfendi who was giggling.

"And they love you too," he said, "I'm sure my mother would enjoy another woman to talk to as well."

"Yes," she returned to the cheesy masterpiece, "I would love that."

…

"Hello?" Lucille Layton twisted the door knob to open the front door to her son's flat, "Is anyone home?"

"Erm… yes!" Flora popped out of the kitchen with a Alfendi bouncing in her arms, "Hello Mrs. Layton, how are you?"

"Oh goodness, dear! Please call me Lucille," she laughed further entering the room, dropping a few elaborately designed bags onto the floor and kicking them softly to the side, "And I'm very well, thank you for asking." She grinned at the wide-eyed girl.

"Do you need any help with the other-"

"Oh no, Roland has them all, don't you dear?" She said pushing the front door open wider.

"Yes, I believe so," he grunted, lifting the bags up and stepping up the stairs.

"Are you sure, Mr. Layton…?" Flora asked.

"Flora, dear don't worry about him," Lucille laughed, "Why don't you help me bring some of my things up to the guest bedroom, I presume, it's still upstairs?"

"Yes," she replied hastily, reaching for one of the bags the old woman had brought inside and trying to balance the weight between it and little Alfendi, "Right this way," she led her up the stairs to a large door that had been shut previously for a number of years. At least until about a day earlier when Flora was replacing the sheets and dusting the tops of nearly everything in the room.

"Oh this is lovely," Lucille said to the girl as soon as the door was opened.

"Thank you," she replied, "I spent most of yesterday fixing it up for you and Mr. Layton."

"And I couldn't be more grateful darling," the woman smiled, "Here I'll take those." She grabbed the bag Flora had been holding and the girl was finally able to correctly support the baby, "I'll take it that Hershel is at work…?"

"He's sleeping actually," she admitted shamefully, "He's been very busy lately, and I'm very worried for him to be honest with you."

"Ah, that's just what he does," Lucille admitted, "He'll work himself to death one day, that boy."

"Yes," Flora pursed her lips as Alfendi started to get fussy, "Please excuse me Lucille, he's a little hungry."  
"Oh of course, I'll go get the rest of the luggage from Roland, you just help the baby," the child's grandmother put on a silly face for him before disappearing down the steps.

"Are you hungry?" Flora asked Al. He made angry baby noises, or at least it seemed like, so the girl walked down the steps and into the kitchen. It was a Tuesday, Rosa's day off. Flora had been very unsuccessful in her cooking in the past few hours; she had been trying to make something spectacular for the Layton's. Unfortunately, she couldn't seem to get her cake to rise like the cook book instructed… maybe it was the unhealthy amount of 'mystery powder' she added to the mix…

Nonetheless, she entered the kitchen, grabbing a jar of squash puree and a cup of yogurt. Now that Alfendi was about nine months old, he could eat a good number of solid foods but he still had to drink formula. He was also on the verge of crawling, much to Flora's dismay. She didn't particularly like that he could just… get away from her.

"Here you go buddy," she placed him in the baby seat, strapping him in and securing the tray. Then she grabbed a bib and placed it around his neck to assure that the orange goop wouldn't stain his clothes, "All ready?" He continued to make more baby noises, smacking his hands on the tray and giggling.

"Flora?" She heard Lucille call from the front room.

"I'm in the kitchen!" She responded, ladling a small amount of puree into a spoon.

"Oh, hello dear," the old woman popped her head into the kitchen, "Is the lad hungry?"

"Quite," Flora laughed, feeding him the small portion of squash.

"It appears so," she replied, "Roland and I are going to carry the rest of our luggage upstairs."

"Oh," the girl put the jar onto the tray, "Do you need any help-"

"Of course not dear! We'll manage!" Lucille laughed, "Don't worry your pretty little head." Flora smiled at the last part of her statement, "Just feed the baby, we'll be fine." She nodded and then the woman left the room. Alfendi started to get discouraged because his short arms couldn't reach the jar of squash puree.

"Sorry buddy," she quickly apologized, grabbing the jar and sticking the spoon inside. She proceeded to feed him the rest of the jar, along with most of the yogurt. Al was a big eater and it would continue to surprise Flora.

About a half an hour later, the Professor awoke and exited his room, only to find his parents sitting with his children in the front room. They were talking about nonsense like the weather or whatever was on the front page of the newspaper. He smiled, shaking his head before he was about to enter the bathroom to freshen up.

"Hershel!" Lucille stood up, running towards him.

"Hello Ma," he said softly, squeezing her, "How are you?"

"Oh, this isn't about me Hershel; it's about you, what has been going on?" By this time both Lucille and Roland were crowding around their son, waiting for him to explain.

"I… I'll explain later, I don't want to worry Flora…"

"What do you mean, darling, what has really been going on?"

"It's all much bigger than what we first thought… I promise I'll explain later, I just, I don't want her to know." He looked over at his daughter watching Alfendi attempt to scoot across the floor.

"Okay," Lucille agreed, "As long as you tell us eventually."

…

At around five o'clock the Professor made reservations for three at some fancy restaurant on the good side of town. He told Flora to stay home to watch Alfendi and then put him to bed. He also explained that if anything happened, she could call Rosa and she would over in less than five minutes time.

"Okay Hershel," Lucille placed her elbows on the table, "Please tell us why you called us down here, not that I mind… I just, I'm worried," she looked at her husband "We're both worried."

"Ma," he swallowed, "You remember Bethany Dane? The young woman who originally asked me to take care of her son on the night she passed away?"  
"Of course dear, I…" she looked down at the floor, "I could never forget that."  
"Well," Layton shut his eyes for a moment, "A good friend of mine, an inspector at Scotland Yard was murdered not two weeks ago and we have reason to believe that these two cases are connected."

"How so?"

"Well, they're connected because of their relations with me."

"What?" Roland asked, shutting the menu he had just been looking over, "Why would anyone want to do something to you?"

"Pa, I don't know," the Professor scratched his head, "I was even more surprised than you."

"Well," Lucille interrupted, "Hershel, just try to think of all of the cases that you've solved, is there anyone who would want to get back at you for something, anyone who would want to make their presence known?"

"Anyone who would is either dead or in jail, Ma," he confirmed, thinking of his brother as well as Chief Jakes.

"Are you sure…?" Lucille pestered, "Anyone, even indirect contact…"

"I…" he thought for a moment, but no one came to find, "I just don't know." He swallowed, reaching for his glass of water as his throat grew dry, "And I don't want to tell Flora about any of this because it'll only make matters worse, with her being scared all the time."

"I understand Hershel," Roland began, "And we promise not to let Flora know about anything going on."

"I really appreciate this," the Professor set the glass of water down, "I really do, I know it was out of your way to drive here and I-"

"Hershel, honey," Lucille placed her hand on top of his, "We're glad to do so," she smiled at her son. In truth, the whole situation was eating away. She couldn't bear to see him so distressed and it drove her nearly insane.

…

Flora's nineteenth birthday approached as spring just began to end; more precisely the last week of May. She had thought about what she truly wanted for this birthday for a very long time, and eventually she made up her mind. She wanted to travel, much to the Professor's dismay of course. But she had perfectly fathomed a plan to win him over, of course she did, she was maybe even cleverer than he was.

"Flora, what do you mean by travel…?" He asked, wringing his hands together. At the time, Lucile and Roland had taken Alfendi out in a stroller to the park a few blocks down. He and Flora were alone, sitting on the sofa in the front room, drinking tea he had prepared not ten minutes earlier.

"Like, drive around the country!" She explained, "You know, meet people, go places, eat exotic food, stay in hotels, things like that."

"Flora," he began, "I'm not sure if that's all too wise, we don't even have a car for you to drive."

"That's another thing," she pursed her lips, "That's what I would like for a birthday, the-"

"But I thought you wanted to travel?"

"No, no," she laughed, "If I get a car, then I can travel, it's a packaged deal!"

"Now Flora," he tried to bring up a smile, "We both know that the world outside this room is dangerous, maybe too dangerous-"

"But Professor," she complained, "I know there are plenty of places _you_ have to be and I know you'd much rather stay here."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, Dropstone's 52nd anniversary festival, the first week of June, which is, oh what do you know? Next week!" She grinned, clapping her hands together, "You also need to attend Janice Quatlane's new opera… which you can't because-"

"Because of lectures…" he sighed.

"Professor," she looked at him with pleading eyes, "I'm going to be nineteen, I need to start… I don't know… growing up?" He swallowed, setting his tea cup down on the coffee table. He knew she was right. If he hadn't found her in St. Mystere all those years ago, she probably would have left. Her life probably would have started and he knew, deep down that he was holding her back.

"How long do you think you would be gone?" He asked, still looking down at the floor.

"Only a couple months, maybe not even that."

"So… most likely, all of June and some of July?"

"Yes," she answered.

"I…" he bit his bottom lip, "I will let you 'travel' if you promise me one thing."

"Anything!" She replied, barely containing her excitement.

"Next fall, you will enroll in the university."

"Deal!" She cried, "It's a deal, I accept your proposal!" She barely set her tea cup down before launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, "Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"You're welcome dear," He squeezed her back, fearing the day that she would eventually leave him all together.

_Hey guys! Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it! I wanted to incorporate Alfendi's grandparents in some way (and just so you know they've met him before, on Christmas day, I just didn't include that part because Holiday Party was so LONG) Anyway, what do you think of Fitz Capello? Do you think he murdered Bethany Dane... or is there something bigger going on...? Thanks for reading and please review! -Lilliana_


	9. Chapter 8: False Leads

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 8: False Leads**

Flora left less than a week after her nineteenth birthday in a fuchsia beetle (which the Professor had personally picked out for her). She had packed up almost every article of clothing she owned, along with her industrial sized make-up bag and a particularly large wad of cash, generously given to her by Lucille and Roland. Once everything had been stuffed into the trunk of her new automobile, she kissed her grandparents and her baby brother good-bye.

"Oh, we'll miss you dear!" Lucille squeezed her for one last time, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"I'll miss you too!" The girl replied, pulling herself away from the embrace, "But I'll be back soon!"

"I know," Lucille smiled, "Be safe!"

"I promise," Flora replied, turning to her father.

"Good-bye Flora," the Professor looked down at her, trying to smile as best as he could possibly manage.

"Good-bye Professor," she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close, "I'll miss you."

"I… I will miss you too," he closed his eyes, pulling the brim of his hat over his face, "Please be careful Flora, please," he sighed, "Don't get into anything that you know you can't handle, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled, pulling away from him and looking up at his eyes, "I will be careful, as careful as I can get."

"I know you will," he sighed again, forcing a smile. He couldn't hide it, he was deathly nervous about Flora leaving London for a month and half. He knew where she was going, he helped her plan the trip out, it was the fact that she was going alone that frightened him most. He knew she was a smart girl, maybe even smarter than the Professor himself, but he knew that there were plenty of other people who were not so intelligent.

"I love you," she said giving him one last squeeze before entering the fuchsia beetle parked in front of the flat.

"I love you too!" He shouted as she shut the car door. Flora gave her family a wave before starting the ignition and hitting the gas, driving away. Layton felt the warm spot on his torso where she had just been become cold and frankly… it frightened him. Flora had been there only seconds ago and now she was gone. Now, he was alone.

…

Flora had only been gone for several hours as the Professor continued to revisit the murders of both Bethany Dane, and Inspector Grosky. The two events were still clouding his thought process. The cases had not had any progress and whoever the killer was, well, he was still out there. This worried Layton to death. What if he was after Flora? What if he had already located her? What if he was going to kill her? If Inspector Chelmey was right and the murders were connected by Hershel Layton himself, then only God knows what the culprit would do to his daughter.

"Oi, Layton!" Inspector Chelmey had called the Professor over to the yard, prepared to give him some news that could possibly change their views on the murders. The Inspector ran out of the station, standing on the porch, a yellow folder crumpling in his hands, "I think we've got a lead."  
"What?" The Professor slammed his automobile shut, running towards the inspector, "What kind of lead… how much information do you have?"  
"Not much," he replied, "Come in 'ere," he was now standing in the doorway, holding the front door open, "But I think you'd be interested to see this."

The two ran back to the forensics lab towards the back of the station where the analyst apparently had some reassuring news. They burst through the door, quickly coating their mouths with a protective cover. They were escorted to the very last position in the back of the lab, where a fairly healthy woman with dark straight hair and blue-gray eyes was pulling things a part with tweezers.

"Eloise Sich, Professor Hershel Layton," the Inspector said introducing the two.

"Hello Professor, I've heard so much about you," she said peeling off one of her latex gloves and reaching out to shake his hand.

"It's good to meet you as well, Ms. Sich," he kindly gave her a firm hand shake before nervously looking around the lab. It frightened him, to say the least.

"Call me Elosie," she smiled, taking another latex glove out of a box and putting it on.

"Of course," he replied awkwardly.

"Anyway," Chelmey drove the conversation back into the correct direction, "Please inform, Mr. Layton 'ere about what you found relating to Clamp's case."

"Right," she ran over to a table on the opposite wall, grabbing several photographs, along with some files stuffed into a folder, "Chelmey, may I have those?" She gestured towards the crumpling folder he was carrying.

"Oh yes, course you can," he replied handing them to her.

"Anyway," Eloise began, "When I was trying to compare the murders of Grosky and Bethany Dane, I came across something quite strange."

"Define strange?" Layton asked.

"Well," Eloise flattened out the photographs of the bodies of the two victims, the Professor almost had to look away, "As you can see, Ms. Dane was shot, but not once, twice, both times in the stomach." She pointed to her corpse, "But it's very strange, there is only one bullet hole."

"Yes," the Professor stroked his chin, "When I found her, I only saw one visible wound."

"That's because the second shot was aimed in the same exact spot. If this Fitz Capello guy, if he really killed Bethany out of fear of being caught, he wouldn't have time to shot her precisely in the same spot."

"Okay, I understand you so far, but what does this have to do, what kind of lead does this offer us?" Layton asked her.

"Because Grosky was shot in the same way," Eloise pulled out the photograph of his corpse, lying lifelessly in the alley, "Except instead of in the stomach, he was shot twice in the skull."

"I don't know too many gunmen who can shoot a man in the same place twice in a row…" Chelmey stroked his chin, "I have a hard time completing the task myself."

"Which leads us to this," Eloise pulled files out of the crumpling folder. Pictures of men dressed in military garb were tacked to each one.

"Military officers?"  
"Not necessarily military," she explained, "Government protection, law enforcement, anyone who is in the records and can successfully shoot a gun, basically."

"We've been trying to narrow it down, and we've gotten pretty low," Chelmey sighed, "Unfortunately, most of these men are untouchable."

"What do you mean untouchable?"  
"They're protected by some oath, some silly thing that the government has sworn to protect them by." Eloise scoffed, "If they were really trying to help the greater good, then they would come down here and help us out, one of men was murdered! For Pete's sake!" She angrily placed the files back into the folder.

"Now, now Eloise," Chelmey calmed her down, "We're still trying to get a hold of 'em, and we will eventually-"

"Inspector!" Emmy Altava burst through the doors, running towards the back of the lab, "I think you should see this."

The trio ran back in the archive in the station's basement. Emmy had found a mere folder containing the files of a case about twenty years prior. She had found some rather interesting information.

"I was looking for this case all morning," she explained, "The two bullets in one wound thing, it reminded me of this… and I… I had to find it." She pulled the folder open. The papers were decaying and some words were no longer legible.

"So what you're saying is that this case 'ere has got the same situation as Bethany and Groksy's case?"

"Exactly," Emmy confirmed, sifting through the papers, "It says here that a young man… Louis Mann, was shot in the head, two bullets were found in his skull." She flipped through the pages, pulling out a photograph, "Look." She showed the picture to Chelmey and Layton. The situation was almost identical to Grosky's.

"Did they ever catch the murderer?"

"Unfortunately no," Emmy pressed her lips firmly together, "They couldn't even find any leads."

"Sounds a lot like this case," Chelmey puffed, placing the picture back into the file.  
"Wait," she pulled a small slip of paper out of the stack, skimming it over, "Listen to this. The two bullets found in Louis' head had letters on them… a K and an N."

"K and N, eh?" Chelmey mumbled, "And the cops back then didn't get anything from the letters?"

"Nothing," she replied, placing the paper back into the folder and shutting it, sending a cloud of dust into the air, "Has Eloise found anything engraved in the bullets found in Bethany or Grosky?"

"I'm not sure, we might want to ask her about it." They ran back up the steps and back towards the lab. The dusty folder still tightly grasped in Emmy's arms.

"Eloise!" Chelmey burst in the lab.

"Hm?"

"Have you had a close look at the bullets yet?"

"Define close look…" she gave him an odd face, cocking her head to the side.

"Like, I don't know, a close up examination, we think we've found something."

"I can give it a try," she shrugged, walking towards several draws and pulling a couple open. She held two plastic bags, one with Bethany Dane's name sprawled on it and the other with Grosky's. Both had two bullets rolling around inside. She took Bethany's bullets out first placing them under a microscope, "Let's see here…" she squinted her eyes, peering down through the glass, "Oh my God."

"What?"

"They do appear to have markings on them… they're strange… one moment, I can almost make out this one…" She twisted several knobs on the side of the microscope and pressed her eye further, "G." She said out loud.

"G?" Emmy sighed, "K, N, G."

"I'm not done yet Altava," Eloise replied quickly, grabbing the other bullet and switching it out, "This one is… it says I."

"Okay…" Chelmey stroked his chin as if he was in deep thought, "K, N, G, I."

"Hold on," Eloise continued, "I still have two more bullets to look at." She placed Bethany's bullets back into the plastic bag, zipping it closed. Then she reached for Grosky's, dumping the contents into her latex-gloved hands. She placed one of them under the lens, adjusting the knobs and looking down at it, "H."

"This doesn't make any sense…" Emmy sighed, "What if they don't mean anything and this is just another false lead."

"Emmy," the Professor tried to encourage her, "I'm sure that they mean something."

"T." Eloise said.

"K, N, G, I, H, T," Chelmey said out loud, "kngiht… no… knight… knight!" He clapped his hads together, "Knight."

"What does the word knight have anything to do with the murders?" Emmy asked doubtfully sitting down.

"It…" the Inspector quickly grabbed the file containing the military officers, "Look." He sprawled the files all over the table, "Knight… Knight… right 'ere!" He pulled one file from the tumbled stack, "Uriah Knight."

"It says that he worked for the prime minister as a bodyguard sort of thing, but retired about five years ago…" the Professor skimmed over his profile, hoping to find something that could be used as evidence, but there was nothing. The picture depicted a normal old man, smiling into the camera. He seemed perfectly harmless, "It says here that he died about three years after his retirement from a heart attack of the sort."

"Damnit!" Chelmey swore, "Another brick wall." He massaged his forehead, "Does he have any records of killing someone? Anyone?"

"Nope," Emmy replied, "It says that he merely escorted the prime minster places, you know followed him around. He carried a gun… but they say he never fired a single shot (which was one of his admirable qualities) and that it was buried with him… don't see how that's relevant." She continued to look over the file, "He was only sixty when he passed away."

"There's no way he's our guy…" Chelmey swallowed, "Emmy, go look up any record of anyone under the name Knight, whoever this guy is, we're going to catch him. Go!" She nodded, running out of the room, "Layton, as much as I know you'd like to help, please, go home, get some rest. I'll call you if anything new turns up."

"Inspector, I-"

"No, please Professor, go home, get some sleep."

…

Clive lay on his back looking up at the ceiling of his cell. He let out a long sigh, lengthening it and blowing as much air between his lips for as long and as loud as possible.

"Christ, shut up already!" His prison mate, a large burly man with red hair and a strange scar on his face yelled.

"Sorry," he apologized sighing (much quieter this time).

"Ya should be, ya ingrate…"

"Dove!" A prison guard slammed his fist into the door, jolting the young man upright.

"Yes?"  
"You've got a visitor, better scurry, visiting hours are almost over."

"Yes of course sir," he quickly sat up, slipping his feet into a pair of old worn moccasins. He then took his fingers and gently pulled them through his hair. Usually the Professor was the one visiting and he expected that now. So he had to look somewhat decent.

"This way Dove," the guard led him down a series of hallways. (Clive always found the prison to be more of a giant maze that a jail), "Keep up would you?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, swallowing everything in his throat down as they turned the corner to the visiting booths. Each booth had two chairs, one on each side and a small table in between them. Every cubicle was separated from each other by two long panels. There were very few people there that day; only two booths out of maybe, thirty were being used.

"Over here," he commanded, "Some pretty girl wants to talk to you."

"Pretty girl…?" Clive asked, confused. The guard didn't care to answer his question and quickly sat him down in a chair. He gave him a dirty look before facing the 'pretty girl.'

"Hi," she said softly.

"Oh my, um," Clive nearly fell out of his chair and sprawled onto the floor, "Flora? What are you…? I mean I happy to see you… just what, why are you here?"

"Well," she looked down at the floor, smiling slightly, "I wanted…erm… I loved the book."

"The book…" he swallowed, "You read it?"

"Of course I did," she replied, "I couldn't… not read it." She smiled, letting a small laugh escape her lips, "And it was fantastic."

"I thought you would like it," he told her, "I used to read the series all the time when I was younger."

"Really?"

"Yes…" Clive smiled, "Annie Dretche is one of my personal favorites."

"Yes," Flora nodded, "She's very good at what she does."

"I'll say," he replied. For a moment, an awkward silence filled between them.

"I'm sorry," She broke the silence and looked down at the floor, "I'm so sorry for acting the way I did back at Christmas." She looked up, but not at him. She turned her head slightly sideways to avoid embarrassment, "It was inexcusable."

"Well, if you remember, I wasn't the kindest either," he reminded her. She smiled slightly, "Honestly, it's all right." Clive confirmed.

"But it's not, that's the thing, it's not at all." She continued to look down at the floor, wringing her fingers together, "How can you just forgive me so quickly?"

"Because I know you need it." She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I- I," she sniffled, "Thank you…" she reached over the booth and stretched her arms around his neck. They both stood up, embracing each other tightly for a moment. The small table in between them almost tipped over. When they each pulled away, sitting back down in their respective chairs, Flora let out a small smile, "Well… I guess I should be going then."

"Wait, no," Clive blurted, "Just, um," he swallowed, "Are you, um, are you going to the rest of the series, you know the book…?"

"Oh," she looked up at him fiddling with the hem of her skirt, "I was planning on it."

"When you finish it," he swallowed again, "Like, the whole thing… tell me what you thought."

"I'll make sure that I do." Flora smiled, dropping the hem of her skirt onto her knees "So, I'll see you soon then?"

"Yes," Clive tried reassuring himself, "Definitely."

"Great," she responded standing up, smoothing her dress and buttoning her coat up to her neck, "Good-bye, Clive."  
"Good-bye." He nodded. She pressed her lips together, returning the gesture and then she slowly walked away, her heels clicking on the tile floors. Clive smiled, looking down at the floor. There was a happy grin plastered on his face that no one could remove, even the irritable guard angry tapping his foot behind him.

"Come on Dove, visiting hours are over," the guard yanked him up by the collar of the turquoise and white striped jump suit.

"Sorry sir," he stood on his feet as he flattened the hair sticking up on his head.

"Hurry up, get back to your cell, now," the guard gave him a light shove, sending Clive down the maze, back to his personal living hell.

_Hai guys! Sorry about not updating sooner, but I just had to perfect a few things! I hope you enjoyed the little Clive/Flora moment at the end; I just had to include it! Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! -Lilliana_


	10. Chapter 9: Flora's Travels

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 9: Flora's Travels  
**

Flora had planned her travels to the minute, literally. She and the Professor had spent nearly two days making reservations, calling people, writing notes, getting addresses (including detailed directions), and scribbling all over the only map she owned. She was prepared to spend about a month and a half away from home, during the month of June and most of July. She couldn't have stressed enough about how excited she was.

Her travels began with a visit with someone she used to despise on several levels. And to say the least, the meeting went quite well and she was back into her car by seven o'clock at night. The next thing that appeared on her carefully planned schedule was to drive one hour and fifteen minutes to the closet train station. There she would board the Molentary Express at precisely eight thirty and take a twelve hour long trip to a small dairy town she once paid an… extended visit to.

"Ticket ma'am," a short gusty man with a red mustache held his thick hand in front of the girl.

"Oh, erm, of course," she dug through her small purse, her fingers stretching to find the piece of paper, "Here you go, sir," she grasped it, wrinkling it slightly, and then handed to him. The look on his face suggested to her that he was not impressed, but she shrugged it off as he placed the ticket back, as well as a silver key, into her hands.

"Have a lovely ride, miss."

"Thank you," she gave him a smile before stuffing the ticket and the key back into her purse and grabbing the (giant) rolling luggage bag behind her. Everything, material that mattered to her was squeezed inside and it was quite a surprise that it hadn't exploded already.

She smiled, slowly rolling the bag behind her and standing in line. There were so many people around her, talking, pushing, and unfortunately… falling. She wasn't used to being around so many people, so she quickly took a deep breath, just like the Professor had told her and closed her eyes… for just a little bit too long.

"Miss?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she shook her head, almost running towards the train. Nearly everyone on the platform had either boarded or had left and she felt utterly embarrassed.

"It's quite all right," the short man said taking a step back as she entered, "I'm Mr. Beluga, the fine owner of this express and I must say you look quite familiar…"

"Yes!" She laughed, yanking the bag onto the train, "The Professor told me about you… you're Anton Herzen's brother, correct?"  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am, you know Professor Layton?"  
"Yes," she blew a piece of hair draping in front of her eyes away, "I'm his daughter, Flora Reinhold."

"If I remember correctly, a man posed as you while you were left in Dropstone!"

"That sounds about right," Flora grinned, "I'm actually heading there right now."  
"Oh really! As am I, I'm visiting my brother and his granddaughter, for the 52nd anniversary of the founding of Dropstone…" he stroked his chin.

"Yes, that's one of the reasons I decided to attend, the Professor, unfortunately couldn't make it." Flora explained, rocking on the backs of her heels. The two stood there awkwardly for a moment, debating whether they should keep the conversation going or to cut it short.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't be stopping you from entering your quarters, have a lovely day Ms. Reinhold."

"Thank you Mr. Beluga," she nodded quickly as he began to walk away from her. Then she hastily reached inside her bag for her ticket, examining it closely. "Erm, Car 4…" She quickly looked up and around for any signs indicating what car she was presently in. She let out a sigh of relief when the number four flashed in red neon as the lights started to dim. She quickly scrambled to the third room on the right, digging the key out of her purse. Once her fingers finally grasped the metal, she yanked it out, shaking her wrist loose from several miscellaneous items that crowded the purse.

"Here we go," she smiled slightly, inserting the key into the lock and pushing the door open. She patted the wall, her fingers searching for the light switch. When she finally flicked it on, Flora let out a sigh of relief, rolling her bag into the room and flopping down onto one of the sofa's in the middle of the space. "I'm finally traveling." She whispered to herself.

…

The Molentary Express landed in Dropstone at around nine in the morning. Because Flora almost always woke up just a little too late, she set an alarm to awake her at 8 o'clock precisely to assure that she had plenty of time to get ready. She knew the week ahead of her would most likely be long, but she was excited nonetheless. She had grown to love Dropstone for the day that the Professor had accidentally left her there.

Once the train pulled into the Dropstone station, a kind young man with bushy brown hair and a microphone held between his arm and torso gladly took her bags for her. He even offered to carry them all the way to the Anderson residence, where she would be staying on account of Miss Katia Anderson.

"So are you here for the 52nd anniversary?"

"Yes," Flora replied, kicking dust into the air with the toe of her boot, "I was here a couple years ago with Professor Layton, you know the man with the-"

"The big hat! I remember that guy!"

"Yes," Flora laughed, a wide smile stretched on her face, "I'm his daughter."

"No way!" The man grinned, "Well it's lovely to meet the daughter of such a prestigious professor, Miss…"

"Flora," she answered quickly, "And who might you be?"

"The name's Sammy Thunder," he replied taking the microphone out from under his arm, "And one day I'm gonna sing in the stadiums!" He began to holler in the device as Flora laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach.

"That sounds like the dream," she told him.

"Oh it is," Sammy tucked the microphone back into it's place, "Anyway, we're almost to Katia's house." He pointed off to a large mansion sitting on a hill, "I guess I'll see you at the party tonight, right?"

"You're going!" Flora clapped her hands together.

"Course I am, Katia's my distant cousin so I guess I could say this is one giant family… and well, friends reunion, considering you're here."

"I guess so," she grinned as they followed a small dirt path up to the house, "Thanks for helping me with my bag Sammy."

"No problem!" He replied, rolling it up next to her, "And I'll see you tonight at the Anderson Ball." He gave her a wink, kissing her hand before walking back down towards the village. Flora felt warm on the small spot he touched and she felt a fuzziness inside.

…

One of the Anderson servants had let Flora inside and brought her to her room. The servant told her that Katia should be arriving back home any time soon and that she would explain to her the plans for the week, as well as bring her down to lunch once it had been prepared. The girl nodded and then proceeded to close the door to catch a glimpse of her room for the next seven days.

It was luxurious with a large bed (Flora couldn't exactly tell what size it was, but it was enormous nonetheless) along with a mahogany desk and wardrobe, and a linked bathroom. The extravagance of the decorations forced her to remember her village, her friends, life before the Professor had found her. She couldn't deny that she missed it dreadfully, even though pretty much everyone in town wasn't real and besides that, it was where both of her beloved parents died. She sighed pushing the thought away and wheeling her bag towards the wardrobe to unpack.

"Hello…?" a feminine voice cooed through the door, a small knock was patting on the wood.

"Yes, come in!" Flora replied rather loudly as she unzipped her luggage. The door opened to reveal Katia Anderson. Flora had only seen her once before, her hair had grown out just a little bit, but she seemed to still obtain the short cut style (which Flora thought suited her well). She was wearing a hunter green pencil skirt and a white tank top with a lavender sweater over it. She had a pair of lilac heels and a white beaded necklace, and her wrists where adorned with several bracelets.

"Hello, Flora isn't it?"  
"Yes," the girl replied, pulling out a few sweaters and delicately placing them in the wardrobe, "It's nice to finally meet you Katia."

"You as well!" She smiled, "Thank you for coming, honestly, it means to world to me."

"Oh it's no trouble," Flora laughed, "The Professor sincerely wishes he could have come along as well, but he's been frightfully busy lately."

"Oh it's quite all right," she replied, "I'm happy you could come! And I don't think I will ever fully apologize for what happened the last time you were here…"

"Its fine," Flora answered feeling a small laugh rise in her throat, "It wasn't your fault… only mine for being so careless." She sighed remembering Don Paolo grabbing her and stowing her away in a barn with some cows.

"No, really, I'm terribly sorry," Katia apologized again running her fingers through her hair.  
"Don't be!" She reminded her, pulling more clothes out of her luggage.

"Oh don't worry about that," Katia grabbed her wrist, gesturing towards the clothes, "I'll have Dorothea do that for you, come on! I want to bring you around town!"

Katia brought Flora down to the main square and showed her the main festivities, such as the cow contests as well as the music performances (which including Sammy Thunder). Flora through that it was all marvelous and she seemed to bond with Katia quite well. By noon the two girls talked as if they had known each other for years.

"So," Katia paused to lick her ice cream cone that they had just gotten from a small stand on a corner, "Do you have a boyfriend?" Flora almost started laughing.

"You've got to be kidding," she chuckled, "Why would anyone want to go out with me?"

"You're fun to hang out with, that's why!" Katia answered, "And besides, you're pretty too."

"Thanks," Flora blushed, "But no, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Well is there anyone you take a liking to? Anybody…?"

"Well," she paused to think about her answer, but she didn't think her new friend would take it well if she found out that she sort of liked a criminal, a terrorist to be precise, "Well your cousin is kind of dashing."

"Sammy?" Katia smiled, "Seriously?"

"A little bit, I guess," Flora grinned, licking her ice cream cone to avoid yet another awkward burst.

"Seriously!" She laughed, "Sammy! Wow, I didn't expect that!"  
"Ha-ha, neither did I," Flora replied, "He's going to the ball tonight, isn't he?"

"Sure is."

"Do you mind-"

"I'd love to set you up with him, Flora," Katia gave her a friendly shove on the shoulder.

"Thanks," she answered, grinning childishly to herself.

…

The night of the ball was quite extravagant. Crystal chandeliers glittered above dancing dukes and duchesses. Elaborate dresses spun their hems along the shiny floor, musicians fluttered a soft tune among the dancers. It was utterly magical and to Flora, it was like it came directly out of the fairy tales she had read as a child. Only a few hours before, she and Katia had sifted through each other's garments, in hopes of discovering the right dress to adorn their bodies. And eventually they did.

After the guests had arrived and had danced through several songs, they were called to gather around the grand staircase located towards the back of the ballroom. A few men with shaky voices and trumpets make a few announcements about the guests of honor and such, only to be interrupted by one of them herself.

Flora accidently was directed to enter the ballroom about a minute before schedule. She graciously stepped out between the opening doors to still hear the whispers of the announcers frightfully peering around to see who had made such a sound. Her eyes became wide with fear and the man seemed to slur his words in order to introduce the girl properly.

"Erm, and one of our first guests of honor tonight, Miss Flora Reinhold. She is the lovely daughter of the prestigious Professor Layton who helped Katia find her grandfather." The explanation was followed by a boisterous applause as she tried to regain her composure. She gave the man a nod, walking down the steps and into the horde of people still clapping for her.

"You look beautiful, tonight," she heard a male voice whisper from behind her. She couldn't deny it, she did look stunning. Her brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, held up by several elaborate braids Katia's maid, Dorothea had done for her. She was wearing a coral colored dress she had brought with her. It was strapless and beaded with white pearls on the bodice. The skirt was long and it flowed around her legs like water, it was also a coral color of the same shade and it had a small slit from her left ankle to about her knees. She had white heels on that she could barely walk in.

"Oh," she turned around. Sammy was standing behind her with a black tux with a navy blue bow tie. He had pulled back some of his hair and had taken off his glasses to reveal vibrant blue eyes. He looked rather handsome, "Hello Sammy." She smiled at him, holding out her hand, "It's lovely to see you."

"You as well," he took her hand graciously, kissing it.

"Please welcome Mr. Fredrich Herzen-Beluga, the youngest son of the Duke Herzen of Folsense!" The short gusty man appeared from behind the doors, a generous applaud following. He smiled, clicking his cane on the floor as he stepped to the side. He looked down at the guests, "Now, the oldest son of the late Duke and the lover of our town's founder, Sophia, please welcome Anton Herzen and his granddaughter, Katia Anderson!" The old man came out into the room, Katia carefully holding onto his arm as they entered the ballroom. The three stood proudly as the announcer said a small speech about two years prior. He included the Professor's lifesaving actions, referring to Flora once more before gesturing towards Mr. Anderson.

"Now, the mayor of our fine town, Mr. Anderson!" There was more clapping and then the music began to play again. The crowd started to disperse and Katia eagerly ran down the grand staircase to meet with Flora and her cousin.

"Hey!" She grinned as she walked up to the two, "So what's… what's going on?" She attempted to wink at Flora, but Sammy was looking directly at her, so she decided against it.

"Fine, I suppose," Flora told her.

"Yes, we're fine," Sammy confirmed, gesturing for his cousin to walk away, "I think I can take it from here, thank you very much."

"Well okay then," the girl laughed, running to meet with other guests.

"May I have this dance?" Sammy held his hand out towards her. She smiled, taking it and letting him spin her around.

"Of course you may." They spun onto the dance floor, laughing and joking together. Flora realized at this time that she liked Sammy, only a little. As they danced her mind kept wandering back to the boy in the prison, but she tried to push him away. She decided that he wouldn't be out of prison for years, upon years anyway.

"So, what's London life like?" Sammy asked her as they flew on the tiles.

"Very busy," she laughed, "The Professor just adopted a baby boy, so I've been trying to take care of him while he's at work. And let me tell you, it's a lot harder than it seems."

"So you have a little brother now?"

"Basically," she grinned.

"Wow, I wish I had some siblings, or at least parents to talk to," he sighed, "My parents sent me to work for my uncle when I turned fifteen because I was, quote-on-quote 'To rambunctious to be in the house and I needed to get a job.' So I started workin' for him and it turned out to be miserable because all he wanted me to do was find the Elysian Box."

"I'm sorry Sammy," Flora said, cocking her head to one side.

"Nah, don't be, after my uncle and Anton were reunited, he seemed to be a ton happier and now he's not always on my case, which is nice."

"Sounds nice," she smiled as he spun her around, her hair flying around, "Ha-ha!" She laughed.

"So how do you like Dropstone so far? I mean, ignoring the fact that you were trapped in barn…"

"It's lovely; I'm really enjoying it here." She told him as they continued to fly around the dance floor.

"How much longer are you staying?"

"About five more days, on Thursday morning, I need to be heading back, I have to visit several more places before the end of July."

"So you're on a road trip?"

"Sorta," she smiled, "I like to call it traveling," she looked up at him, "More professional sounding." She gave him a wink.

"That makes sense," Sammy replied, "I hope to see you around town then, considering the Molentary Express isn't going to be leaving for another five days," he smirked, "What a coincidence!"

"A coincidence indeed!"

_Hey! Sorry for the overdue update, but I'm afraid the updates might be a bit more spread out now. School has kind of taken over my life, so I'll try to post as often as possible, but I'm just not too sure how often it's going to be. Thanks for everyone who has read or reviewed to far and hopefully, I'll update soon- Lilliana_


	11. Chapter 10: An Old Friend

**The Destiny of Alfendi Layton**

**Chapter 10: An Old Friend**

Clive was getting transferred, _again_. It seemed to happen to him a lot. He'd get moved from one wing to another wing of the prison on the account of "We're running out of space and you're one of the few who cooperates." At least every two months he'd have a new cell mate, not that it mattered, it's not like he spoke to them anyway. This time he was being transferred from the east wing to the south wing. He had only been in the south wing one other time before that and he remembered fairly well that it wasn't pleasant.

His cell mate then had been some psychotic triple murderer who would sharpen his fingers nails on the walls in order to try and "claw his way to freedom." After about one week, Clive kindly asked the warden if he could have a new cell mate, he told then that he would literally live in the smallest cell just to get away from the creep. Luckily, they liked Clive enough to let him do so and he was moved. He hadn't been in the south wing since.

"All right Dove, your cell mate should be here in about ten minutes," a guard was gripping Clive's handcuffs as he led him to a cell at the end of the south wing hallway.

"Just a little curious," Clive butt in, "Why was he put in here exactly?"

"Don't worry, he's no triple murderer," the guard laughed, "He had an attempted robbery, an accidently shot the homeowner in the process."

"Oh," Clive sighed, "That's… unfortunate."

"Yeah, it is," he replied, "Put in prison for the rest of his life because he was hoping to make a quick two hundred bucks…" Clive nodded, hoping that his new cell mate would at least be somewhat normal (I mean as normal as one could get for being in prison, right?). The guard unlocked the last cell on the left, shoving the heavy metal door open, "All right Dove, get inside."

"Erm," Clive held out his hands that were still bound together. The guard smiled stupidly fumbling for the key. Once he managed to grasp it, he placed it into the lock, twisting it open, and taking the handcuffs off.

"There you go," Clive thanked him and walked inside the room. It was slightly smaller than the cell he had previously had, but it was big enough for two people at least. He sighed, lying back on the cot on the left wall and shutting his eyes. His mind wandered to Flora visiting the night before. Obviously, she didn't loath him anymore, which put a large part of him at peace, but he didn't know what she felt about him. He knew that he had made the conversation quite awkward, but… it wasn't too bad, was it?

He heard some muffled talking outside his cell. He sat up, anticipating his new cell mate. He was praying to the Lord that it wasn't some crazy psycho hoping to scratch his eyes out with his sharpened finger nails.

"Hello?" He said loudly. Suddenly the talking stopped and was replaced by an awkward breathing sound, "Hello?" Clive repeated, sitting up straighter. Suddenly the door to the cell was flung open and a young man with disheveled dark hair and glittering green eyes was shoved inside. His nose was crooked and one of his eye brows seemed to be singed off.

"Get in there, you scum." A different guard was standing at the door. He had light brown hair and dark blue eyes and a strange scar above his right eyebrow.

"I'm in, obviously," the young man snapped.

"Shut up," the guard shook his head as he slammed the door shut, "Geez."

"Are you okay?" Clive whispered as the young man stood up shaking his limbs to avoid them from pulsing.

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed off his shoulders, "I'm fine, thanks."

"Sorry," Clive replied taking a step back and sitting down on his cot, "Erm, I'm Clive, Clive Dove, by the way." He debated whether he should hold out his hand or not… and of course, being the true gentleman he is, he did. His cell mate gave him a funny look as he to, plopped down on his bed.

"Fitzpatrick Capello." He told him, slapping his hand with Clive's outstretched one, "But you can call me Fitz."

"Okay, erm, Fitz." Clive nodded, laying down on his cot.

"What how'd you get put in here Clive?" Fitz said casually pulling out a toothpick from one of his pockets and putting it into his mouth.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you knew…" He mumbled, turning away.

"Ooh, are you a celebrity? Is it some kind of scandal?"

"No, not really," he replied.

"Let me think, you're a guy in your mid-twenties, put in prison for something that I should know about and your name is Clive…" he tapped his chin.

"I really don't want to talk-"

"You're the kid who built that giant machine and tried to smash London down to hell, yeah I remember that!" Fitz yelled, spitting the toothpick on the floor.

"That's the one," Clive sighed, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, that was about two years ago, right? Wow, I can't believe I'm in the same room as you." Fitz sneered.

"It's not anything to be proud of," Clive snapped back.

"Sorry," he replied, leaning off of his cot to retrieve the fallen toothpick, "I'm not so proud of myself either."

"What could you have done that could possibly be much worse."

"I'm not saying that it is much worse," he snapped back, "But I'm right up along with you." Fitz sighed, flattening his hair.

"What did you do?"

"I broke into someone's house," he swallowed, "I was going to steal some jewelry or something, but that woman, she was home. She wasn't supposed to be home." He let his head hang between his knees, "And yet… she was. So I panicked and I killed her." They both fell silent, listening to the sounds of their own breath.

"I'm sorry." Clive said quietly.

"Why are you sorry?" Fitz gave him a strange look, "It had nothing to do with you. It's in the past and I need to get over myself and stop wallowing in my own tears."

"It's okay to feel upset," Clive told him, anger sliding into his voice, "I mean, you-"

"It's in the past," Fitz pressed, "And I need to get over it." Silence once again filled the room, "Now, recreation time starts in…" he looked up at the clock ticking outside the cell, "Two minutes." He looked over at his cell mate, "Wanna get some smokes with me?"

"Sorry, I don't smoke," Clive looked down at the floor.

"Well then you can win them for me." Fitz grinned, standing up as a bell rang from down the hall and their cell locks clicked open, "Come on birdie, we don't have all day."

"Birdie?"

"You did say your name was Dove, didn't you?" The criminal laughed, giving Clive a light shove as they both exited the cell.

…

Clive could easily admit, he liked his new cell mate. He was one of the first people he had been assigned with that was the slightest bit agreeable. The two got along well. Almost every day the two would play poker with the other inmates during recreation time, aiming to win the most cigarettes as possible. The cigarettes were the currency of the prison and it seemed to win a certain place in every other criminal's head. The _leaders_. Clive couldn't deny that he enjoyed being the person that everyone wanted to talk to, even if it was in prison as the most feared man inside.

And he _was_ the most feared. He had built a giant death machine underground for several years without any law enforcement on his tail. To other criminals, that was quite impressive. Fitz even found him to be frightening at times. Clive had a pretty damn good poker face and his cell mate liked to use that to his advantage.

"All right birdie, found another challenger, says he's the only one who knows how to beat you."

"Really," he stroked his chin. He had played and beaten nearly every other inmate that he had come across, "Who?" Fitz gestured to a man with long gray hair, one side covering a half of his face. He had pale blue, lifeless eyes and his eyelids seemed to be collapsing over them. He had a slim smile stretching across his cheeks and facial hair growing on his chin.

"Hello Clive." He watched him, his gaze strengthening.

"Dimitri," he muttered, "You've been here, all this time?"

"What, did you really think I'd be off the hook?" He laughed, "I have the same blood on my hands Dove."

"Maybe so, but why were you-"

"Don't tell me you've never seen me here," Dimitri snapped, "I've been here this whole time, observing your behavior."

"Observing? How come I've never seen you around?"

"I lurk in the shadows," he whispered, a menacing grin peeling away at his facial features, "Nonetheless, how about a game?" Clive squinted his eyes at his old friend. Had he really been there the whole time? He was certain that Dimitri got off the hook, but he could be wrong. The man had been quite elusive before.

"All right then," Clive sat down across from him as he started to deal the cards.

"Now, I'm a little rusty," Dimitri admitted, pausing the deal for a moment, "So why don't we play another game."

"What kind of game?" He swallowed.

"Well, I can easily say its not a card game…"

"Clive what is her talking about?" Fitz' voice shook slightly. He could tell the two knew each other well.

"Spit it out Dimitri," Clive demanded.

"Fine," he spat, swinging his fist through the air, making contact with Clive's jaw. The boy fell onto the ground, moaning in pain.

"Oh my God!" Fitz stepped back. He knew inmates would fight each other every once in a while, but he had never once seen Clive get into a fight with anyone.

"You see Clive," he hissed, stepping over to the wounded boy, "I took extreme measures to try and save someone, someone that meant a great deal to me and well, you destroyed those measures. You destroyed them all, so it's only fair to me that I do the same to you."

"Listen… I'm…" Dimitri kicked Clive in the stomach multiple times, followed by several punches in the face. Blood dripped from Clive's nose, as well as his mouth as he began to fall unconscious.

"Not even your precious professor can save you now Dove!" Dimitri cried, kicking him again and again, "Layton will never take you out of this hell, I promise you that!" Clive's eyes rolled back and the world around him became fuzzy. So he laid his head back and fell into a deep sleep.

…

He regained consciousness on a rickety old cot in the infirmary. A young nurse with blonde hair and dark eyes told him to relax and she switched out an ice pack that was beginning to run warm with a cold one. Clive's head was pulsing and he could barely think straight. Pain coursed through his abdomen, along with his forehead and unfortunately, his groin. He even had trouble swallowing down the grape flavored pain medication because his throat was so swollen.

"Is…" he felt his whole body tense as he attempted to sit up, "Where is Dimitri…?"

"Ya shouldn't worry about him," the nurse smiled, "He's in the detention ward, he busted you up pretty bad, if I do say me-self."

"I need to talk to him," Clive continued to sit up, even though the pain in his spine was increasing.

"No, no," she carefully laid his shoulders back, "You're staying right 'ere kiddo. You gotta get well before you leave my sight." She smirked, retrieving a tray of food (it was probably chicken… but it could have been mashed potatoes too). "Now eat, okay? It's good for ya." Clive managed a smile as she set the tray down next to him and offered to feed him a few bites.

"When…" he winced, "When can I leave?"

"Are ya joking?" the nurse nearly laughed, "Boy, you're far from healing; ya need to take some time to rest."

"Can I at least make a call, you know, for a visitor?" The nurse tapped her chin.

"That can be arranged."

…

"I am acting in the place of a legal guardian, now what happened?" The Professor stood at the front desk of the prison, his fists clenching on the cold metal counter top.

"He's twenty-two years old sir," the receptionist told Layton, "He no longer needs a guardian, and I just looked through his files, anyone who could fill out that paperwork has been dead and gone for a while now."

"Then why did he call me down here, aren't I allowed to see him? Can't I talk to him?"

"That's the thing; Clive, he wasn't allowed to call you in the first place I don't understand why-"

"Oi, Layton," Chelmey burst through the front door, fumbling through his pockets to find his badge, "I've gotcha covered." He thrust the badge in front of the man's face, waving it in front of his eyes, "Now, could you kindly direct us to the infirmary?"

Minutes later, they were criss-crossing down a series of pale gray hallways following the receptionist who seemed pretty irritated with the two. He led them towards the east wing, into a large room with several white curtains hanging from pipes in the ceiling. A young blonde woman kindly escorted them into Clive's personal chamber.

"Professor?" His face lit up at the sight of his friend, "How did you…?"

"We managed," he smiled, turning to the receptionist who scoffed and left the room, "How are you feeling, what happened?"

"Fine, I guess," he smirked, "I took a few hard blows to the face though and my stomach feels a bit queasy, if I do say myself."

"Clive, what in the world happened?" Chelmey pestered.

"I was playing poker outside during recreation time and… well…"

"Spit it out boy," he barked.

"And Dimitri approached me."

"Dimitri? As in Dimitri Allen?" The Professor sounded surprised.

"Yes, it was most certainly him." Clive nodded scratching the back of his head where several bruises seemed to glow, "And he was pretty angry with me."

"Whatever for?" The Professor asked.

"I can't say we were at the best of terms last time I spoke to him…" he sighed, "I mean, I sabotaged his whole plan and put everyone I knew into danger. But the thing is, I never even knew he was here. I had never seen him."

"Well I can assure you he was transferred here as soon as he was announced guilty." Chelmey told the boy, "I checked into that just a few days after the incident."

"It was strange," Clive blurted, "He just came up to me and started rambling and then kicked me onto the ground… and it didn't stop for a few more minutes."

"Clive, did you fight back, at all?" The Professor asked him.

"No," he answered easily, "I deserved it, especially from him; I was willing to take it."

"Well, boy," Chelmey grinned, slapping a folder into the Professor's arms, "This is your lucky day then."

"What do you mean?"

"You're finally getting out of 'ere," he smiled, patting the boy lightly on the shoulder, "You're free."


End file.
